Golden
by Lady Sosostris
Summary: Natsume Hyuuga is an ordinary guy in his early twenties; he studies hard, he observes the universe and he works different jobs to support his family and himself. And then there's Mikan Sakura: fabulously wealthy, a glittering socialite, whose life could not be any more different to Natsume Hyuuga's. But by the will of fate, or perhaps by chance alone, they meet and fall in love.
1. A Winter Star

**A/N:** This is inspired by the recent BBC production of **Howard's End** ; Taylor Swift's new song **Call It What You Want** and the iconic film **Notting Hill**. Enjoy!

 **Chapter One: A Winter Star**

* * *

 _Finally,_ Natsume thought as he took a long, well-deserved drag on his faithful cigarette. The sweet, ashy aroma of tobacco lit the air around him. Sighing ever so quietly, he sunk down to sit on the cold step, stretching his leg out on the dark pavement in the alley. It was struck him as poetic that behind the glittering restaurant was this dingy, disgusting alleyway. Behind everything beautiful, the cold and degenerative truth lies.

Inside laid the treasure: the golden décor, the golden and abundant champagne, the golden necklaces draped so casually around women of all ages. Everything was extravagant, opulent… _obscene_. Sometimes, in the kitchen he laughed with the others about the gross opulence of the wealthy; how they decorated their children with diamonds, spoiling them with expensive phones from a young age. Sometimes it was absurdly funny, especially when the little boys looked like adults, in their little suits with their hair combed neatly. But other times, he just felt disenchanted with their obscenity. Depressed, even. Tonight was one of the latter times.

The last table he had waited had spent nearly ¥200,000 on their dinner. Although their tip was generous, the attitude of the father, mother and two children were rotten. They were cold to one another, prudish, but worst of all, completely lacking empathy. They were civil to him, but every time Natsume interacted with them, be it to get their order or to place the plates on the table, they (including the children) made it perfectly clear that _he_ was below them, inferior, waiting and serving on them. There was no mutual understanding there—he, Natsume, according to their behaviour towards him, existed only for their convenience. To them, he was a waiter first, a fellow human second. To them, it wasn't judgement or prejudice to see him in such a way; they squashed and limited his existence to as a waiter and they did not let him forget it.

He crushed the dying cigarette under his foot.

He thought of that bottle of wine—one which had cost more than a month of his salary—and how the parents only took one sip each from the bottle. He thought of the truffle scallops and caviar that they did not even touch, despite having had ordered them. He remembered the way the children played with the foie gras on their plates. He had watched this all from the sidelines. Other waiters who saw raised their eyebrows amusedly, inconspicuously of course, whenever they passed him.

But tonight, as he had returned the plate of untouched scallops back to the kitchen (to be binned, of course), disillusionment simmered in his gut.

The cigarette had helped ease his mind, forget all the details, distance himself away from the golden world. And hey, thank God his shift was now over. From this dingy alleyway, at the back of the restaurant, the sky was very thin. The tall surrounding buildings sliced his view of the night. Not that he'd be able to see any stars anyway… this was Tokyo, the city of artificial light, the city of no-stars.

It always seemed ironic that he lived here.

As a Ph.D. student funding both his own postgraduate and his little sister's undergraduate degrees, Natsume needed this job. Well, he supposed his could find other part-time jobs; it was just that nowhere paid half as well as here, and the tips were better than any other place. He also tutored students of all ages for some extra cash too. He also coached the local under-fifteen football team. He was a busy man whose life revolved around work, studying and exercise. He didn't mind it—he liked to keep himself occupied after all. He liked routine and liked to keep his mind disciplined.

It was just that sometimes, the very glaring disparity between his life and those who dined at the restaurant shocked him. He wasn't bitter; no… it was more of a dumbstruck incredulity that sometimes tipped over to exasperation (like tonight). When he first took this job, to him, it was like witnessing a live social experiment. He had never been inside like this one and watching the lifestyle of the rich and famous was completely new. But like everything new, the novelty faded: the glimmer dimmed, the gold faded, the silver turned to rust… now, to him, it just seemed like a banal circus parade.

He was about to light up another cigarette when Narumi, his manager, popped his head out from the backdoor into the alleyway, flooding light from inside.

"Natsume-kun! I thought I'd find you here."

He lit the cigarette, holding it with smoky two fingers, "What do you want, Naru?"

At first, Narumi frowned. "I thought you said you were going to quit!"

"I tried. But it turns out that I'm a nicer person as a smoker."

Naru pouted disapprovingly.

Natsume liked his manager. He was rather eccentric and unconventional, but incredibly accommodating to all the staff. Many of the diners seem to like him as well. His light, easeful manner was completely inclusive; he treated everyone kindly and equally, always listening with the utmost sincerity.

"So?" Natsume urged. "What do you want? My shift's over and I'm not doing any overtime; I don't care how busy you are."

"Well," from the airy texture of his voice, Natsume quickly understood that his assumptions had been correct, "it's not your _conventional_ overtime—"

"Forget it. I'm tired. I have football coaching from 7a.m tomorrow."

"Oh, come on! It's not like you have anything else to do with this fine, Saturday night!"

Natsume looked back and glared, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "I have plans. To _sleep._ "

"I'll give you ¥10,000." The tone of Narumi's voice changed. "Off-payroll. I'll give it to you now."

A pregnant pause. Then, Natsume raised his eyebrow. "You serious?"

Narumi nodded, grinning. He was reeling in the fish! "Yes."

"How many hours?"

"Well, if you'd just listen to me, I'll tell you!" Natsume didn't say anything, so Narumi explained; "You just need to return this purse to a customer. She left it on her table." He then pulled out a shiny, black designer purse and shook it lightly in his right hand. "An important customer forgot it."

"Why doesn't she come and get it?"

"I can't get a hold of her." But something about the way he said it made it plain to Natsume that this woman was not the type to return, even for her purse. She was the type to be pursued.

"She'll realize soon enough. Won't it be better just to leave it here?"

"Natsume, her family is one of our most special customers. They are practically like our patrons. I should think it's part of our service to return this directly to her."

Natsume looked unconvinced.

"How do you know where she lives?"

"The restaurant sends her family a New Year card every year."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course!" He chirped happily. "Like I said, it's part of our service to her family. She'll appreciate it. She's wonderful! And I'm certain if you do this, you can look after her next time she comes with her friends or family. She tips _very_ generously."

He didn't need much more convincing. If anything, the ¥10,000 was enough incentive for Natsume.

"Fine. I'll go." He stood up and threw the dying cigarette away. He held out his hand and accepted the black purse. He had already changed out of his waiter's uniform (after all, he wasn't allowed to smoke in it) earlier, the minute his shift had ended, so he was ready to depart. "What's the address?"

Narumi told him and Natsume entered it on his phone. He then gave him the promised fee. With a satisfied but churlish smirk, Natsume stowed the crispy note in his wallet.

"Thanks," Natsume nodded, before turning away, ready to make his journey into the nicer part of town to return this purse.

"Natsume!" Narumi called after him. "Her name is Mikan Sakura!"

* * *

Hers was the nicest house, on the nicest street in the nicest part of town. Everything about it demanded superlatives, but all Natsume could say was, "Jesus, fuck."

As he approached the large front door, Natsume could hear music seeping from the beautiful house. It felt rather odd, he mused, hearing such music come out from such a charming house. He had always thought rich people only listened to opera or Chopin or some other dead European bloke from a hundred years ago.

There was a huge knocker on the door, shaped like a lion's head. He opted for the doorbell instead. To his surprise, despite the music and the general clamour from inside, the door opened rather quickly: the music flooded outside, revealing a tall, slim woman with black hair and a green, skin-tight sequin dress. She was holding a glass of champagne, of course, and her cheeks were rather rosy. First, she looked curious. Then, she looked interested.

She leaned on the doorframe, draping herself like an elusive curtain (all to his amusement). "You're rather dishy," she suddenly said, her voice low, "you here for the party? For me?"

He raised an eyebrow and stepped back. "Are you Mikan Sakura?"

Her expression changed. She stood up tall again and barked with a sudden mighty laughter. "Oh no, honey, no. If it's Mikan you're after," her tone had gone from sultry seduction to frank consideration, "she's probably upstairs. Come in," she jostled her hands, beckoning him, "quickly. We don't want to let the cold air in."

He didn't move. He just held up the purse. "I'm just here to return this. If you could pass it to her—"

The woman's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, her purse! You marvellous man! Oh, how gallant of you! Yes, she mentioned that she probably left it at _Goemon_ ," She reached her manicured hand out; Natsume thought she would just take the purse, but then, she grabbed his arm instead, pulling him inside. She shut the door quickly, and soon, Natsume was engulfed by the decadent music.

"How nice it is of you do bring her back her purse!" The woman continued. "I'm her friend, Sumire."

Natsume could hardly hear or see her. The lights were dimmed, the music was blaring, and the space was crowded. People trickled down the intricate staircase, bouncing from room to room, holding drinks and each other, as they laughed lavishly. It was not like any house party Natsume had ever been too. From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw singer Reo Mouri and model Yuri Miyazono. They had once been his little sister's idols; she had their posters plastered on her wall at fifteen. But it couldn't _possibly_ be them, no matter how uncanny the similarities were—

"Reo!" Sumire called, to Natsume's disbelief ( _shit, it_ is _Reo Mouri!_ ). "Where's Mikan?"

Reo Mouri glanced in their direction and shrugged. "Upstairs, I think? Last I saw, she was with Hotaru." He then returned to his conversation with Yuri Miyazono.

"Come, let's go find her," Sumire said to Natsume, pulling him further into this land of the gods and monster, the illustriously famous and notoriously renowned. Actors, singers, models, socialites, sons and daughters of politicians and bankers—they were all congregated _here_ , in the nicest house on the nicest street. He shouldn't be too surprised though, should he? Especially when considering their similar calibre and the fact that the foyer alone was considerably larger than his family's flat.

"So, who are you?" Sumire asked as they ascended the twirling, excessive staircase that oversaw everything.

"No-one," Natsume answered, neither in jest nor in self-deprecation. Honestly, he just wanted to leave quickly; he was not interested in idle small talk and mindless prattle, especially in the vicinity of such people. He didn't want to intrude. He was just here on a job.

"With a face like that? Impossible." Sumire joked. She glanced back at him to peak another look. She brazenly laughed—he wasn't quite sure if she was laughing at him, or at her own thoughts. "Mikan? Hotaru? Where are you guys?"

Faintly, they heard a voice call from the next floor up. And so, they ascended even higher, up to the golden heavens, up the tower.

"Mikan! Are you here? I have a tall, dark and handsome surprise for you!"

An exasperated voice came from the other end, "For God's sake Shouda, if you've hired strippers tonight, I'm going to kill you."

Natsume raised an eyebrow.

"No Hotaru, I haven't, I—wait," she abruptly stopped and looked at Natsume, analyzing his clothes and arms, "… you _aren't_ a stripper, are you? No judgement if you are!"

"No," he deadpanned dully, and just shook the purse that was _still_ in his hand, "look, I'm just here to return this—"

From the other end of the corridor, two women appeared. They walked towards them, elegant and poised, the corridor their runway. One, with short black hair, was tapping away furiously on her phone—a woman, clearly, on a mission, in her leather pants and blood red sheer top. The second, wearing a black silk robe and stiletto ankle boots, smiled at Sumire before curiously inclining her head at Natsume. She was a brunette, and Natsume didn't know if it were just her risqué choice of outfit or whether it was _everything_ put together as a whole, but she was, as far as his body was concerned, his type. From her dark curls, light eyes, pouty lips, all the way down to her slim ankles, he liked it all. She was beautiful—and sure, the other two women were too—but she was his kind of beautiful.

Natsume averted his eyes. He did not want to interrupt or impose. After all, he was here on a mission himself.

"Mikan, you slut, what are you wearing?" Sumire guffawed, amused. "You can't go down like that! Change back into the white dress."

The brunette shrugged. "I'm not going down. I'm staying up here. I'm going to bed. I can't be bothered, not tonight."

"Don't be silly," Sumire waved this off, "you can—"

"No, no," Mikan said. "Not tonight. I'm sleepy. Besides, _you_ organized tonight, not me. Just make sure everyone clears out before 3am, latest. No more drugs, please. Third, fourth and fifth floors are out of bounds."

"I'm going too," Hotaru said, not bothering to look up from her phone. "Toyota's stocks are falling. I need to buy and sell. I've got no time for games."

"You bitches are no fun," Sumire said, shaking her head.

"So, who's your friend?" asked Mikan, looking at Natsume, pulling all the attention and focus on him like a compass.

He turned his eyes to her. He had avoided eye contact before this. But now he looked, it was hard to look away. To his surprise, he saw genuine interest in her expression; she was looking up at him expectantly.

"He's not my friend, he's _yours_."

Taking this as his cue, Natsume held out the purse. Even Hotaru looked up from her phone to see what he was passing to Mikan.

Mikan's face lit up in recognition. The previous sleepiness in the eyes had completely vanished. "Oh, my purse!" She reached out for it.

Finally, he was free of the purse. She took it in her arms.

"Thank you! I—"

"I'm off, Mikan." Hotaru informed quite suddenly. "I need to get on this quickly," she motioned to her phone, "and call New York." Then, very brusquely, she kissed both her friends an adieu on the cheek twice like a Frenchwoman and bid Natsume a goodbye with a passing nod before walking off.

"See you next week, Hotaru," Mikan called after her.

Then, "Hey," Sumire suddenly called after her too, "wait, Hotaru—I need your help before you leave," she then turned to Natsume and Mikan, explaining, "if anyone, Hotaru can tell Matsudaira to stop being an ass downstairs," she then followed Hotaru, but not before she bid Natsume and Mikan a goodbye and a good night. "I hope I see you again, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome!"

In a blur of green sequins, she left, like a flash.

And then, he glanced at Mikan Sakura. She was still looking at him. She smiled.

He cleared his throat. He stepped away. He had done what he had come for. "I'm going—"

"We can have our own party up here," she suddenly said, and her smile became coy. "You brought my purse all the way here for me. I can't let you go… not without thanking you first."

He felt as if he were in some weird, surreal film. As inviting as her smile was, and as divine as she looked in that honeyed, loose robe, Natsume shook his head. "Look, I don't think you understand—"

"Why don't I know you?"

He hesitated. The best explanation he could think of was, "It's a big city."

She laughed. He wasn't even trying to be funny.

"I know everyone who dines at _Goemon_." She lightly informed him, the laugh lingering at the corner of her lips. "But I don't know you."

"That's because I don't eat there," Natsume replied; he saw her eyes flicker to his lips, and couldn't help his own eyes from doing the same. The electricity of mutual attraction crackled between them, and whilst Mikan seemed to move towards it, Natsume was trying to get away. He didn't have time for this, but more pressingly, he was sure she wouldn't care about him once she knew who he was. So, he hastily shattered the mystery, destroying the illusion: "I work there. I'm a waiter."

He waited for her to release him, to send him away from her golden castle.

She did not. To his surprise, she without any prejudice, she stepped closer to him. "Oh?"

Her perfume was nice. Spicy. Light. It was distracting.

He further attempted to paint himself darkly. "My manager, Narumi asked me to bring you your purse."

He wondered if she understood his subtext: _I am not kind or generous. I did this for the money._

Even if she did see the subtext, she chose to ignore it. "That was nice of Naru-chan. And even nicer of _you_ to bring it to me. I need to thank you properly."

She was flirting with him, relentlessly. Though, like a true lady, she was waiting for him to make the final move. Her eyes twinkled with anticipation, daring him to look down at her chest, daring him to take charge and kiss her against her affluent walls.

 _Should I just go for it?_ Quickly, a greedy, hungry and impulsive voice within him said _Fuck yes—look at that face_. He imagined her naked; he imagined fucking her into her expensive mattress. He could do with a one-night stand; it had been a while, and he missed the dewy smell of women. That same voice then assured him that this situation was a gift from God and to turn it away would be an act blasphemy. _It's not every day a hot, rich girl wants you_ — _do it, or regret it for the rest of your life_. _Enjoy one night of riches._ He imagined how jealous his friends would be if he went through with this. He could already see Koko's dumbstruck gape.

But like most decisions in his life, reason overran his desire.

As professionally as he could, Natsume replied, "You can thank me by requesting me next time you come to _Goemon._ Rumour is you tip well. I should go."

Mikan's jaw slackened. He was turning away… he was walking away from her. Tip him? He wasn't jesting. But nor was she; she wasn't done with him!

"Wait," she called after him; thankfully, he turned back to look at her, and she jostled over, her silk robe clinging like water to certain curves, shimmying, her thin heels clicking against the floor. "how can I request you if I don't even know your name? You know mine. It's not fair."

"Hyuuga."

"And your first name?"

"Natsume." He turned to move.

"Natsume," she suddenly said, her voice clear, lacking that previous frivolous tone. Instead, now, it was rather vulnerable and meek. "If… if you're not otherwise busy… if you're not engaged, both in terms of your time and in terms of your affections to another… if you _want_ to… I'd really like to spend some time with you. If you want."

He looked at her curiously, masking the extent of his bewilderment. Suddenly, a loud raucous laughter from downstairs echoed, reverberating between them, acutely reminding Natsume that she was not alone in her house. At this very second, there was a party going on downstairs, a party filled with illustrious people that she knew. Her house was brimming with people; surely she could call one of her friends from down there to come up here to spend time with her. Surely Reo frickin' Mouri would be a better choice than him! He wondered why she wanted his company tonight. He didn't have much to offer. He didn't really have anything, really. He was a nobody, but more seriously, he wasn't her friend. He was a stranger.

He wished she would stop looking at him like that… like he had the power to either make or break her night.

"I can't. I have work early tomorrow morning. I need to have an early night."

"Work?" She inquired. "At _Goemon_?"

"No. I coach a local junior football team on Sundays."

She smiled, interested. Then, "What about tomorrow evening then? Can I see you then?" He opened his mouth to reply, but she interrupted him, suddenly shy, pushing a forced nonchalance, "If you're working though, I understand."

He was going to decline. But the way she had said that, like a nervous afterthought, made him reconsider. It made him see her as a woman, asking a man out. The little details, like the fact that she was a customer and infinitely wealthier than him dissipated. The power disparity balanced and the red warning sign that read 'Do Not Trespass' all nullified in Natsume's mind.

And so, finally, he crossed the red-tape and teased her back, "I'm really not that interesting," she returned his smirk wholeheartedly; brightly she beamed, as he mused, "what's going on in that head of yours? I wonder."

Pleased to see his reciprocation, happy to hear he was no longer speaking to her in polite form, she easily replied. "You don't need to question my intentions. They're honest and good."

He goaded her further, "Says you, wearing nothing but a robe. Nothing about you is innocent."

She smiled. It was enigmatic but telling all at once. "What's your number? I'll text you."

* * *

She did text him. She texted him early the next morning, at 7a.m. He was with Luca, grabbing their first coffee of the day. Luca was his best friend who also coached the football team. Training was just about to start.

Some part of him was surprised she texted him. Some of part him believed that she had not been serious last night, that innocuous mischief resided in her eye. But according to the text, perhaps not. She still seemed keen to see him.

He asked her why she was up so early on Sunday.

' _To say good morning to you, silly_ ' was her gentle nudging response.

* * *

After practice, he went to _Denny's_ with Luca and soon after, his other two friends joined them. Koko complained about the weather as he sat down. Mochu immediately started to flirt with the waitress. They all ordered ramen.

He had known Luca, Mochu and Koko since elementary school. At 24, to one another, they were all like brothers, a part of each respective family.

"So lads," Koko chirped, lacing his fingers together, his hands on the table, "shall we go get a drink tonight? End the weekend with a bang?"

"Pass," Natsume declined, just as both Luca and Mochu were accepting.

Luca frowned. "You're not working tonight, are you? I thought Sunday evening was your night off." Luca often worried for his best friend, who, in his opinion, worked far too much.

"No, I'm not working," Natsume replied as he snapped his chopsticks apart, "I'm seeing someone tonight."

Mochu reacted first, "What! Who? Who is she?"

"He didn't say it was a woman," Luca pragmatically pointed out.

Mochu raised his eyebrows incredulously at Luca, scoffing, "Luca, you blind bat. Just look at his shit-eating smirk. It's _obviously_ a woman."

"Who is it?" Koko asked, "That girl from the bar from last time?"

Natsume shook his head. He opened his mouth to reply, but Mochu's grumbles superseded his words, "Don't know why I'm so surprised. Natsume going on dates is nothing new or exciting at this point. You know, when _I_ finally score a date, I'm sure the universe will implode from shock. That'd be breaking news."

"It's been too long," Koko mourned on behalf of Mochu.

Gravely, Mochu nodded. "At this point, I've forgotten the feel of a woman," Mochu melodramatically bemoaned.

Luca rolled his eyes; he heard this lament at least once a day. He turned to Natsume, "So, who is she?"

He opened his mouth with the intention to tell them about the rich, pretty girl from last night. To spill all the details about her house, the party she didn't attend at her own house and its distinguished guest-list. But something stopped him. He had never been superstitious, but for some reason, he felt that speaking of her would jinx the date. Some part of him hoped that tonight wouldn't be a one-off, like all his other dates. He felt he should approach it differently.

So, instead, he ambiguously answered with an accompanying non-committal shrug, "We'll see."

* * *

 **A/N:** Welcome to my new story! This is my winter gift to you :)

January is always such a 'ughhhhh' months, so I thought I could warm it up for you all with this story! **I'll be updating every day** (!) so you won't have to wait months and months on end for development (like _Resistance_ … sorry readers…)

Rather than focus on 'how they got together', this story will focus on Mikan and Natsume as a couple, loving each other, overcoming normal couple issues and also the issues that come from their very different lifestyles. It's super lovey-dovey, so maybe have a rubbish bin beside you when you read this, you know, just in case you retch.

So, see you tomorrow!


	2. Famous

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Two: Famous**

* * *

Who is she? Well, she's the fabulously fashionable, scandalously splendid Mikan Sakura, Tokyo's leading young socialite of course! She was the daughter of the incredibly wealthy Izumi Yukihara, Tokyo's chief businessman and Yuka Sakura, the famous model from the late 1980s. _Everyone_ knew of her parents' disastrous marriage: it was dished heftily in the headlines in the late 90s, consumed greedily by the public; everyone, after all, loves a tale of money, scandal, mistresses and drugs. And yet, from the polluted wreckage, two children emerged like phoenixes: Kaname and Mikan.

As they grew, the elder, the son, followed closely in his father's footsteps. When Kaname came of age, with a degree from Tokyo's most prestigious university, he joined his father's company, immediately promoted to second in command. The economic paper and journals followed them with scrutiny, grumbling about their nepotistic business conduct but begrudgingly accepting their success, noting their benefits for the Japanese economy reluctantly. At twenty-nine, Kaname Yukihara was one of the most powerful and sought-after bachelors in Tokyo.

The younger, the daughter, on the other hand, broke away from her father's path when she came of age, taking her mother's maiden name instead. This caused a ripple of murmurs ( _'is she claiming allegiance to her mother?'_ they whispered) but the politics of her surname was soon forgotten as her face begun to grace the papers. After all, who _really_ cared about her surname when she had a face like _that?_ All eyes turned to her—the media had a new pretty, little thing to fawn, pant and bitch over—for she, at eighteen, was far more beautiful than her mother had been at that age. Her face caused a frenzied, electric excitement to bubble, which was only stimulated by her deliciously charming, but ever-so-slightly naughty and exuberant personality. To them, she epitomised the coquette archetype. They did not care that she also went to Tokyo University to study Business and Management like her brother had done—they only ever focused on her face, not what lay beneath. And the media sighed a breath of relief when after her graduation Mikan Sakura decided to join the high-life rather than that of the business world. A pretty face, after all, is far more interesting and sellable when accompanied with an article about cocaine, _not_ economics. And so, at the age of twenty-four, Mikan Sakura often graced the headlines, with that coy smile that kept a thousand and one secrets.

Like a rare diamond, she appeared at vogue events to glimmer, to smile, to promote, to laugh airily and non-committedly before disappearing into the night. According to the trendy gossip articles and glossy fashion magazines, her circle consisted of other rich daughters and sons, of singers, actors and models… those with a reputation big enough to spur and electrify the journalists' pen.

The public liked reading about her and her glamourous life; they poured hours of their time looking at her photos online and following her friends on social media who posted photos of their glittering circle whenever they were at an event. Mikan Sakura didn't have social media accounts herself, but that only added to her allure: she always seemed ever-so-slightly untouchable; enchantingly palpable, but never quite present. This balance struck favourably with the public: her fellow socialites Sumire Shouda and Hotaru Imai, after all, were deemed to be too lascivious and too prudent respectively. The gossip magazines gasped at Sumire's voracious antics, tittering at her many failed relationships, whispering loudly about her cocaine use whilst then they groaned and yawned at Hotaru's intense expressions, deeming her to be a cold-hearted, frigid and asexual stuck-up. In the spotlight, one can never be too much of anything: one must learn to be a chameleon and Mikan Sakura had mastered this. She never gave the public too much or too little.

Despite their similar credentials, unlike her brother, Mikan Sakura had never _really_ worked a day in her life. Sure, she supposed her job _was_ being a socialite: after all, she was paid bulky sums to attend certain events, to glam and spice up the guest list. She often received kind 'donations' from fashion moguls, who would sycophantically ask her to wear their clothes for promotion. She had more power in her small, smooth hands than most scurrying men in suits did.

But Natsume Hyuuga knew none of this. He was completely ignorant of her weighty reputation and current renown. He might have glanced over her father's name in the newspaper at one time or another, but it had never stuck with him.

His head, after all, had always been wandering up there with the stars.

* * *

As first dates went, theirs went very well indeed. At the end, she asked for another. He accepted. He told her that he would text her. And so, he did.

* * *

Another successful date. Another promise of another.

* * *

The next was a _very_ successful date. They kissed, and kissed again when they had to part ways: her, to her father's mansion, him, to his father's flat.

* * *

It was on their fourth date Natsume learned about the true nature of her lifestyle and her family.

They had gone to a rooftop bar that oversaw Tokyo that Sunday evening, and together, holding their drinks they were leaning on the railings, pressing themselves against the city. His eyes were fixed on her, watching the way the lights from the neighbouring skyscrapers lit and coloured her face so enchantingly. Now and again, he would furtively glance behind his back, apprehensive and wary.

It was their first date in a public, open place. Mikan had chosen the venues of their three previous dates: always a restaurant that had a private room. Natsume had not realized this unwavering pattern, and so when he had suggested this rooftop bar earlier that day, he did not quite understand her brief hesitance. It was only when they had stood by the bar, ordering their drinks, that Natsume realized that something was amiss and not quite right.

He knew she was beautiful, but the manner in which people had reacted to her presence seemed rather strange. Bewildered, he watched the way they whispered excitedly to one another, glancing at her, nudging one another when she passed. Then, to his utter surprise, two young women came up to them and asked Mikan for a selfie. She had graciously agreed. But when she turned back to him, he saw the slight nervousness in her eyes and the tightness of her smile.

And so, he led her here, to the balcony, up against the railings: now, they both faced the night sky, their backs turned on the crowd behind them.

"Am I missing something?" He asked, his voice low. "Are you…" He couldn't finish his question; it would feel so juvenile and silly to say the word 'famous' so seriously.

She looked at him, her expression mirroring his surprise. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

She downed her cocktail. He took the empty glass from her, as she moved closer to him. "I…" she cleared her throat, "I thought you knew, but you just weren't acknowledging it…"

"Knew what?" He then smirked. "What? That you're _famous?_ "

He was using his teasing tone; he languidly pulled the vowels when he said 'famous'. But she responded with a straight face and in an earnest voice, as humbly as she could, she replied, "Well, yes."

"… Oh, shit _—_ "

"Well, not _famous_ ," Mikan amended, grabbing his forearm, as her eyes urged him to not make a fuss, pleading him silently not to move away from her, "…I'm just _known_ … like a figure…"

He raised his eyebrows, and looked her up and down. "You're kidding."

But he knew very well she wasn't. He hadn't imagined those people's stares, nor did his mind conjure those girls who had posed so enthusiastically with Mikan earlier.

"You honestly don't know who I am?" Mikan quietly asked, curious, looking up at him, seeking the truth.

"… Mikan Sakura?"

She smiled, and her hand that had been gripping his forearm loosened. Now, she softly held him; then, she said, "Yes. I am Mikan Sakura. But that means nothing to you, does it? When you hear the name Mikan Sakura—"

"I only think of you, as you are in front of me right now," he said, looking at her, "and our time together. I know nothing else."

"So, you really didn't know?" Her free hand touched his cheek.

"I still don't know." He then glanced behind them and instinctively, he recoiled; eyes that were on them now flitted away, knowing that their staring had been caught by him. "… Shit," he stepped away from her, hoping to shake off the prying eyes, "I mean, I knew you were loaded but…" He cleared his throat as he saw her expression. He regretted moving away from her so abruptly; she looked slightly wounded. Apologetically, he put Mikan's empty glass down and touched her hand softly, inching back to her. "What I meant to say was… I knew you lived a very different life to mine, but I didn't realize you were…"

"It's nothing worthy or meaningful," she shrugged off her fame easily.

He contemplated her dismissive words thoughtfully, looking into her hopeful but tentative eyes. Sure, he didn't quite understand the significance of Mikan Sakura, even now. But surely, a voice said, some part of him _knew_ deep down that she wasn't 'normal', in his understanding of the word? Surely her family home, the guest list at her very home and her general air of being all indicated a very different manner of living? Yes; perhaps a life of fame and celebrity? The signs had been there all along, dangling in front of him from their very first meeting.

"So, what are you famous for?" He couldn't help but ask. He thought of their previous date, when he had told her of all of his jobs and his Ph.D. research. Was she an actor? He hoped he hadn't actually offended her by his ignorance. But then again, she herself had said that she was unemployed. "I thought you said you didn't work."

Something in her expression softened. She was looking at him like he was a sweet, summer child, naïve and innocent.

"I don't work," she confirmed, "not in the conventional sense. My job… well, if you can call it that, is just to be seen at certain events."

He looked confused. Her expression only softened. She liked how he was so unfamiliar with her sham world; he was _real_ , free from all the intrigue and greedy, sticky clutches of money…

"It means that I'm not famous for any worthwhile cause. I'm famous for being famous. I'm the daughter of Izumi Yukihara; that's it." She edged closer to him, "Does that change the way you see me?"

He blinked. Then, "Is it bad that I don't know who Izumi Yukihara is either?"

Heartily, she laughed at his frank but chaste honesty, her cheeks flushing merrily. She shook her head. "No. That's good. It's all nonsense anyway," she said, meeting his gaze, her smile transforming into an earnest expression, "I'm glad you don't know any of it. You're too smart for all the mindless chatter," again, she put her hand on his cheek and this time, he made a point to hold her hand against him. "That explains why I feel brand new when I'm with you."

He still didn't quite understand, but her words were humane, genuine and devastatingly bare. He wanted to kiss her. Yet, behind his back, he knew people were still looking over at them, at _her_ , like they were fishes at an aquarium. He felt guilty for picking such a place.

"Let's go," he suddenly said, putting his drink down and holding her hand.

"But," she looked at the drink he had not touched, "you haven't finished your drink—"

"I don't need it. Come, we'll go someplace more private," he insisted; she followed him through the crowd, towards the elevators. He noticed the way the murmurs intensified as they passed. Regret gnawed inside him— _she must feel like an animal at a zoo,_ he thought indignantly. They had already paid, so they were good to go; quickly, he pushed the elevator button.

The elevator came, and thankfully, they were the only ones in it when the metallic doors closed. He pressed for the Ground Floor.

"I didn't know," he blurted out, "I'm sorry."

She looked startled. "…Is that why we left? Because people were looking?" His silence confirmed it. She stepped closer to him. "Natsume," she took his hands, "it's alright. We could have stayed—"

"Our time together should be _ours_. Ours alone."

Her heart swelled. This was the first person she had ever met who did not want to take advantage of her fame; the first person who did not want to publically associate himself with her because of her name, to further his status… so many people had come in her life with the pretense of friendship and love, flaunting her and their relationship, just to further their own position… those people had all come and gone, according to their own interests, always disregarding her feelings. Briefly, she remembered her first kiss—how that boy had only kissed her so he could tell the gossip magazines about it, his friends selling the grainy picture they had taken of it that very same day… she suppressed all the hurt from the past, determined to live in this moment: _this man is not the same_ , her heart assured her.

Boldly, she circled her arms around his waist and brazenly, she looked up at him. "Natsume… do you want to stay at a hotel tonight? With me?"

His lips parted. She glanced at them.

"I know you have work tomorrow," her voice was tender and understanding, "But I won't keep you up too late."

He grinned. She grinned back.

"I won't hold you to that. Let's go."

* * *

Two months later, Natsume Hyuuga and Mikan Sakura were completely and utterly in love with each other. He was hers and she was his. Together, they overcame the last clutches of winter and bloomed into the spring hand in hand.

For Natsume, it was strange now to imagine his life without Mikan: how dull and empty life had been before her, like a field without flowers. He hadn't even noticed how grey his life had been before; now, she coloured everything vibrantly, nourishing his ho-hum and simple world, rejuvenating his emotional capacities. Everyone saw this change in him: his friends picked it up very quickly as did his father and sister. They were all happy to see him like this.

He had told his friends a month ago about Mikan, the day after he had asked her to be his girlfriend. His family too were notified that same day. His friends were more curious about her identity; Koko had popped his phone out, determined to find her on Facebook. Natsume told them that, like himself, she didn't have a social media account. Not believing him, they had demanded to know her full name so they could scope out Natsume's girl.

"Mikan Sakura," he had informed them. To his surprise, they had all reacted very strongly to this name.

They all knew of Mikan Sakura, so they had all been shocked to learn that their friend was dating _her_. So far, they hadn't all been introduced yet, and some part of Mochu still held the belief that Natsume had got it wrong; that he wasn't _actually_ dating _that_ Mikan Sakura—perhaps another, a different unknown Mikan Sakura. Natsume didn't press on it; he didn't want to focus on her name, after all, he preferred to meditate on her very existence.

Mikan too was better than she had ever been. Simply seeing his name pop up on her phone made her hands shake in anticipation and seeing him in person, every time, made her inexplicably content. She could hardly put her feelings into words, for they felt uncontainable: all she knew was that, with Natsume, she was the happiest that she had ever been in all her life. She also felt incredibly peaceful when she was with him: everything else in the world all faded away when she was with him. With him, she could be herself. He let her be. He was her grace… he was her favourite and most precious secret. She wanted to shield him from all the treachery she had hitherto seen in the world. She wanted to protect him, yet she also sought his protection too.

From the start, she understood that Natsume was a busy man. His jobs and study did not leave time for much else. Sundays, after football coaching, was his only free window during the week—by Monday morning, he had to return to his university office to work on his research. So, Sundays belonged to Mikan. Sometimes she kept him until the early hours of Mondays too.

They spent their times in the remote corners of parks, walking hand-in-hand, talking, quietly sipping coffees, with Mikan always obscuring her fame with various hats and sunglasses. Sometimes they went to the movies, hiding in the back in the dark, like a clandestine secret. Other times, they spent the whole day in hotel rooms, lounging on the bed, ordering room service, watching films, and entangling themselves intimately with one another. They had done just that yesterday.

Everything was delicate. Everything was gossamer. Yet at the same time, everything was strong and resilient between them.

It had been a wonderful Sunday, Natsume thought to himself, as he entered the data into his computer that Monday morning. He knew that he should be focusing more on the data, but his mind kept returning to Mikan's lazy smiles and his fingertips kept imagining her yielding skin.

A knock came. He presumed it was Professor Jinno, here to review his progress.

"Yes, come in—"

Instead of a grumpy, middle-aged man, his radiantly cheery girlfriend popped her head in. She was here to surprise him.

Immediately, he reacted: his lips upturned, his smile reaching his eyes. "Mikan,"

She was holding a paper bag and a coffee in her hands. "I've brought sustenance," she revealed graciously, closing his door behind her with her boot, "blueberry muffin and a cappuccino. I thought your big brain might want some sugar,"

She disrobed: she popped her cap off and took her dark sunglasses off, revealing her delighted eyes.

Once she was close enough, he enveloped her in his arms and kissed her on her lips. "You're here," he murmured, very pleased to see her, "how did you find me?"

She pecked his lips briefly before she turned to put the muffin and coffee down. "I thought I'd come spy on you,"

By now, she knew that he spent most of his time cooped up in his office at Tokyo University. The business school was at the other end of campus, so she was treading in new and untouched land here.

He motioned to his desk, "Not much to see," Just books, scattered sheets, pens with missing lids and mugs of cold, forgotten coffee.

"Rubbish," she dismissed his modesty, "I've learned a lot about you since coming here."

He raised his eyebrow, confused but intrigued. "Go on, enlighten me,"

"Well," she wandered towards his bookshelf, running her finger against the many spines, "I asked the woman at the departmental desk if she possibly knew where Ph.D. student Natsume Hyuuga's office was located in the physics department. Not only did she know _exactly_ who you were immediately, she then proceeded to tell me that you were the most brilliant astrophysicist Tokyo University has seen in years."

"Fake news," Natsume said, as he bit into the muffin.

She laughed and continued, " _Then_ the other receptionist behind her chimed in, and he proceeded to tell me that I was in for a treat, as Natsume Hyuuga is, and I quote, 'on fiyah' _._ "

"I bet that was Rui," Natsume replied, not sounding the least bit surprised, "he got shit-faced at last year's Christmas party and serenaded to me on the karaoke machine."

Mikan laughed. Natsume was now leaning on his desk, half of him propped up. With his free hand, he motioned to his chair, offering it to Mikan.

She took it, and her eager hands gripped the armrest before her curious eyes scrutinized the computer monitor in front of her.

"So this is it," she peered up at him and smiled, "this is your world."

"This is _our_ world," he amended, pointing towards the monitor, "it's our universe. See?" He briefly explained the physical cosmology, skimming over the local and global geometry of the universe.

She squinted. "You lost me at 'general relativity' and 'spacetime'."

Fondly, he smiled at her. She brought him back down to earth, away from the stars.

She still looked on his research, and he saw the way her lips silently spoke the words on the screen, over and over again, as if she were trying to comprehend the mathematical explanation of a hyperbolic universe. She gave up after a minute.

"Doesn't this completely mind-boggle you? Scramble your brains?" Incredulity marred her face, but her heart swelled; she was so damn impressed by her man. "How can you just research this so easily, without feeling dizzy? The universe is just so big! I don't want you to get lost in the universe."

"I've liked astronomy from a young age," Natsume admitted, "it's always helped me put things in perspective. When my," he cleared his throat, "when my mum died, astronomy became an outlet; an escape route. I would be lying if I said I haven't got lost in the universe in the past."

He had told her of his mother's car crash a few weeks ago. Carefully, she took all of his hurts in her hands, determined to fill the cracks and love and nurture him.

"Any problem, put against the backdrop of the universe, just becomes dust."

She touched his hand. "Sounds nice. But sometimes you can't sweep the dust under the rug. Sometimes it's better to come back."

He nodded.

"I'll help you down." She promised, squeezing his hand. The rawness of the conversation vibrated in the air between them. She moved the conversation back to the science. "It's amazing how you can understand all this. How you can look at this five days a week and stay sane."

"It's not easy work," Natsume said, "it's applying maths and physics into space, hoping that space follows certain principles. It keeps me busy."

"It keeps you _too_ busy," Mikan pouted facetiously, her hand holding his knee. "How can I possibly compete with the universe?" she joked, then leaned her head on his desk, her other hand holding her neck up.

"Very easily," Natsume replied, leaning down to kiss her, "believe me."

"Me? Compete with something infinite, when I am small, inconsequential, finite and insignificant?" She murmured against his lips, her mirth lingering softly.

"Well, you make me feel infinite, so yes. You'll win every time."

They kissed again. He tasted of blueberries.

She told him so. He smiled.

"So," she glanced at his desk, then swivelled the chair back towards the computer monitor, "all this is your Ph.D. research. Is this your dissertation, your thesis?"

He nodded.

"Hmm…" she mulled, humming quietly, "and once it's done, you'll present it to the Japanese Astronomical Conference?" He had told her this two weeks prior; she was just verifying her memory.

He nodded.

"You're a busy man," she teased, as her heart swooned. He made genius look so simple and easy.

He took a sip of his coffee, slowly. She looked so pretty, sitting his chair, smiling up at him. His free hand reached out and cupped her chin, his fingertips stroking the side of her chin. They tingled, happy to be reunited with her soft skin.

"Can I come here again?"

"Whenever you want to," he promised her.

"Next time I'll bring a book," she exclaimed, pleased by his invitation to his little study, his big world, his busy life, "that way I won't distract you too much, and you can get on with your research."

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, her fingers tracing the shell of her ear.

"With or no book, I'm sure you'll find ways to distract me."

* * *

A few days later, Natsume spotted _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Sense and Sensibility_ tucked away in the corner of his bookshelf in his office.

Fondly, he smiled at them, welcoming them to his library.

* * *

 **A/N:** What do you all think about the chapter lengths? I've basically written out this entire story already – so, I could actually make the chapters longer. What do you think?

Thanks to layliaman98, Rafaela lousie, Kuroi Safira, newroz, DreamingReverie, Read at your work risk (yeah… you're right, there probably would have been security, whoops – forgive my silliness!), Trigunskitty and SunBabyBoss.

I'll see you tomorrow :)


	3. Keep Me Warm

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Three: Keep Me Warm**

* * *

Natsume hastily pulled on his uniform, and smoothed the wrinkles in the white, stiff shirt. As quickly as he could, he pulled his tie from his locker, and then—

"I'm coming," Natsume hastily affirmed, as Narumi entered _Goemon_ 's staff room. He looped the tie around his neck, pulling up his collar.

"No rush, no rush," Narumi languidly assured him, taking a seat, "the restaurant's not open yet. You have ten minutes."

Then, one of his co-workers Goshima entered. He politely greeted Natsume and Narumi before he also took a seat. It was the calm before the storm; the pregnant pause before the restaurant doors opened, flooding in diamonds: the Saturday evening manic gold rush.

Narumi was reviewing the reservation book; Goshima tapped mindlessly away on his phone; and finally, Natsume joined them to sit, his tie fastened neatly.

"Hmm… Natsume…" Narumi called; he seemed slightly distracted, his eyes still on the book, skimming quickly, turning the pages slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember in January I asked you to take that purse back? To Mikan Sakura?"

His heart thumped; it thumped so loudly, so abruptly in his chest that he wouldn't have been surprised if both Narumi and Goshima heard it reverberate against his chest.

"You did return it, right?"

Suddenly, Natsume felt like a child who had done something wrong. He had not told Narumi about his and Mikan's relationship—would it be strange now, three months on, to suddenly announce that she was his girlfriend?

"Uh, yeah," he slowly replied. The corner of his lips twitched, unsure whether or not to reveal the truth, the facts—

"Hmmm…" Narumi sighed again, "odd…"

Natsume frowned. "Why?"

"Hmm? Oh," finally, Narumi looked up at him and explained, "you see, I don't think you've ever waited on her table before, but she used to be a regular. She used to come at least once every two, three weeks. But since January—since that night she left her purse—she hasn't come. I wonder if she's all right. I hope she's not ill. She's a wonderful person."

Unhelpfully, Goshima suggested, "Perhaps she doesn't like the food anymore."

Narumi pursed his lips thoughtfully, "That would be a pity indeed. I hope that's not the case. But I'd rather it's that than her being unwell."

Natsume didn't know what to say. He felt silenced somehow. An uncomfortable ringing stung his insides. He knew very well she was well. Only yesterday, they had gone to see the cherry blossom together. Some part of him wanted to blurt that out and broadcast the happy news at the top of his voice.

Yet he had no idea, he had not realized that Mikan had stopped coming to _Goemon_. No doubt she had stopped coming on his account.

He didn't know how to feel about that.

(A small voice in his mind whimpered, _is she ashamed of me?_ )

* * *

Natsume yawned. It was Sunday morning—around 7.30a.m—and with Luca, he was instructing his football team to carry out their drills. The teenagers, all decked out in their football shirts, were dribbling footballs down the pitch in single file.

"Fujiyama," Luca called, "do that again! I saw you cut corners."

Somewhere in the pitch, the Fujiyama swore at being caught by Luca.

Luca turned to Natsume. He did not seem as alert as usual; he kept trying to fight off yawns, but with little success.

"You okay, Natsume?" Luca asked. "You look exhausted."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," Natsume admitted as he squinted in the direction of the sun. The spring sun was rising steadily, dyeing the pitch golden, pouring gold onto all their faces and into their eyes.

Last night, he had not been able to shake off that little voice in his head. It still murmured quietly, though less incessantly, in his mind. He had plans to meet Mikan today at 10a.m—they were planning to spend the whole day together. As he stood on the pitch, he decided that he would speak to Mikan about _Goemon_. He had always been honest with her. He should be honest about this too.

 _It's not a big deal_ , his mind soothed; _it's not a big deal…_

From his peripheral vision, he saw Luca's eyes suddenly widen. Then, without warning, familiar fingers covered his eyes from behind.

"Guess who?" came Mikan's sweet voice.

His fingers gripped onto hers, and he pulled her around, so she now stood in front of him. She beamed, radiant, the sun glistening in her hair.

"Surprise!"

"Mikan," and just like that, all the voices and all the worries from last night melted away. Her smile, not the sun, warmed him, and his eyes followed her—she now returned to the stands behind, grabbing the two coffees that she had put down earlier.

"I got you coffee!" she announced, her eyes flitting from her boyfriend to his best friend. She passed Natsume a cup and then held out the other to Luca. "Hi, Luca. Natsume's told me all about you. I'm Mikan. Here, please have this coffee!"

"O-Oh," Luca stammered, then he laughed awkwardly as he took the coffee from her, "thank you, you didn't need to—"

"No, it's alright! It's so early. I figured you both would like a cup."

"That's very kind of you."

"It's nothing." She promised.

 _Holy shit,_ Luca thought as her eyes peeked from her glinting sunglasses, _it really is Mikan Sakura._

Mikan turned back to Natsume, looking delectably impish. "I thought I'd come watch you coach," He had told her last week the location of his Sunday coaching session, here, at Ueno Park. She then shook her big bag. "I also brought you all food! Cookies."

Natsume unwrapped the scarf that was wound around his neck. "It's cold," he said. It was April, but the early mornings were still chilly. "Here," he held out his scarf to her, "wear this."

She took it. He helped wrap it around her, like she was his baby. But then again, she _was_ his baby, he supposed. He flicked her playfully on the nose once he was done.

"Sit on the stands," he suggested, thinking only of her comfort.

She nodded. "I'll keep a close eye," she murmured, and then chastely kissed his cheek before she moved away.

Her presence emboldened him. Suddenly, he felt like showing off; he wanted to impress her. His yawns were finally gone. He felt alert and clear-headed—and it was not thanks to the coffee.

Beside him, Luca quietly muttered, "She's _something_." He meant it.

Nodding, he agreed. She was everything.

Then, he called loudly to the pitch, his tone assertive and bold, "Stop with the drills. Evens versus odds in five—formation, everyone!"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Luca blew the whistle, signalling half-time. Evens were in lead, with a 2-1. The teenage boys all walked towards their two coaches, towards their water-bottles that laid waiting in their rucksacks on the stand.

"Hey, do you see that hot girl?" they all whispered to each other, eagerly, "I think it's Coach Hyuuga's girlfriend! I saw her kiss him on the cheek!"

Youichi Hijiri walked straight up to Natsume. He liked his coach, and he liked to be upfront about things. "Is that your girlfriend, Hyuuga?"

Natsume raised his eyebrow at his little protégé. It was no secret that Youichi was his favourite. Whilst Luca, the good coach, was impartial and liked everyone equally, Natsume could not help but favour this loud-mouthed, nosy and talented brat. Youichi was the shithead little brother he never had.

"Don't look at me like that," Youichi said, "is she or not? It's a simple question, even for you."

"I don't know where you get your arrogance from," Natsume quipped back, smirking tauntingly, "especially after that shit first half. Your team's playing poorly this morning. You kept missing."

Youichi scowled. "So, is she—"

"Does anyone want cookies?"

Both Natsume and Youichi turned towards Mikan, who was popping open the Tupperware in her lap, to then reveal a sizeable mountain of chocolate chip cookies. Like bees to honey, immediately, the boys all buzzed towards her, all reaching out desperately for a cookie.

"Don't forget to say 'thank you'!" Luca chastised as he watched the fervent teenagers stuff the cookies in their mouths.

"Luca, would you like one?" Mikan asked.

"Oh, yes please…" towards her, his tone was very different and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Don't forget to say 'thank you', Coach Nogi!" one of the boys teased mercilessly, his voice purposefully high-pitched.

"Fujiyama!"

Natsume drifted towards Mikan, a slow smile materializing; Youichi closely followed him, his eyes on his favourite coach, suspicious but undeniably intrigued. Natsume was the person he looked up to, the person he wanted to emulate. To Youichi, Natsume was the infuriating but caring big brother he never had.

Not caring about all the beady, teenage eyes that were now upon him, Natsume took his rightful place next to her on the stands. He sidled up against her, comfortably, and smiled back when she looked his way.

"Have one," she said.

He took one.

"Say 'thank you'!" The boys all erupted in adolescent, frenzied laughter.

"Fujiyama," Luca cried, "I swear to God—"

"Thank you," Natsume murmured to his girlfriend, ignoring the hyperactive teens, before taking a bite.

"You're most welcome."

Luca, who figured that they should have some privacy, turned to the boys and admonished once and for all, "Come on, you only have a ten-minute break! I want you all to drink some water! Go to your bags now, or else I'll make you do two laps!"

Grumbling, slowly slowly, the boys all moved away from Natsume and Mikan. But as they rifled through their bags, they kept glancing in their direction, hoping to see some definitive _action_ (wink wink) that proved once and for all that Coach Hyuuga was dating a super hot brunette. They couldn't judge accurately because she was wearing a puffer jacket, but they were all pretty sure that she had big boobs too—what else did fourteen-year-old boys care about anyway?

Youichi, however, had different things on his mind.

Stubbornly, he stood in front of Mikan and Natsume, regarding Mikan intently.

"Do you want a cookie?" she asked, somewhat perplexed but greatly amused. By the looks of it, he was assessing her, x-raying her, trying to see what laid beneath that cap, those sunglasses and that sunny disposition.

"Are you Hyuuga's girlfriend?" Youichi asked without warning.

Immediately, Natsume groaned, "Youichi, you little shit—just take a cookie."

Youichi bristled, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't know if I want her cookie."

Natsume commanded, "Take her cookie."

Youichi defiantly glared at him. Natsume's eyes narrowed too.

Mikan interrupted their peculiar quarrel: "Yes, I am; I am his girlfriend." she clearly said, looking straight at Youichi; then, she put a hand on Natsume's knee, almost as if to confirm and seal her words.

"Since when?"

"Um," she glanced at Natsume, then back at the boy, "since the end of January."

Youichi couldn't help but gape. " _Three_ months?" He turned to Natsume, scandalized, his eyes accusatory, "You've been dating her for three months and you didn't tell me?"

Natsume shrugged. "Didn't think you'd want the memo."

Youichi opened his mouth to counter Natsume's churlish nonchalance, but Mikan spoke before him, resolved to diffuse the situation, "Youichi, right? Are you Natsume's cousin?"

"Huh? What, no." He looked confused.

"Oh!" Mikan feigned surprised. "I mean, I knew he didn't have any little brothers, but you two are so similar I was convinced you were related somehow! You even look alike."

"Really?" Youichi suddenly looked quite bashful. "Do you think so?"

She could tell that this boy thought the world of her boyfriend. She was bestowing him the highest of compliments.

Mikan nodded. "I do. You're really similar and I can tell you have a really close bond. I assumed it was a family bond." She then held out the box of cookies. "Are you sure you don't want one? They're really good."

Finally, Youichi yielded to her and took a cookie. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"You're welcome. I'm Mikan, by the way," she kindly introduced herself, "it's lovely to meet you."

For the remaining minutes in the break, Youichi sat close by Natsume and Mikan, watching them converse easily, noting the way Mikan often leaned against Natsume as she laughed, marvelling at the way Natsume gazed at her, like she was the most precious existence in the universe. Attentively, Mikan often pulled Youichi into their conversation too. He liked that.

"Right, ten minutes are up!" Luca suddenly announced from a few steps away, on his feet, "On the pitch! Come on!"

Youichi stood up. He looked back at Mikan, who still remained seated with Natsume.

"Will you come watch us again?" He blurted out, curiousity getting the better of him.

She smiled. "If that's alright with you all."

Casually, he shrugged (that meant yes).

Suddenly, Youichi inquired, "Do you have any younger sisters?"

Mikan cocked her head, puzzled by his unexpected question. "No, I don't. Why?"

And then, Youichi smirked—a smirk that was no doubt modelled off Natsume's—and his eyes turned devious as he cheekily and very suggestively leered, "I was just wondering whether you had one for me to date."

Natsume launched up from the stands. "Youichi!"

Youichi escaped from Natsume's wrath, zooming away, laughing raucously.

"That little shit—"

Youichi turned around, jogging backwards, and cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted loudly in their direction, "I like her! I want one like her!"

"You're too young and stupid to even _think_ about that!" Natsume shouted back as Mikan roared with laughter on the stands, throwing her head back.

Seeing that there was a football lying around, Natsume thought that this was a good opportunity to, quite literally, get his point across and hit the nail on the head. Briefly, he aimed before he smoothly kicked the ball—it whizzed in Youichi's direction, and finally— _thwack!_

"Oof!" Youichi groaned as the force of Natsume's ball sent him flying to the ground. "Hyuuga, you asshole!"

* * *

Football training was over. Odds had won. They all thanked their coaches for the session. The boys were all sweating, huffing and puffing as they made their ways back to the stand, ready to go home and enjoy the remaining hours of Sunday. They spoke amongst each other, but as they approached the brunette, all their attention wavered towards her. By now, Youichi had spread the word that her name was Mikan and that she was dating Coach Hyuuga. Boyishly, they all nudged one another as they reached her, whispering and sniggering.

The two coaches were still on the pitch, picking up and collecting all the cones.

"Bye, Mikan!" some of the boys cried, laughing, as they ran away with their football bags swinging. "See ya soon!"

"Bye, Mikan! I like your boobs!" Another hysterically cackled, fleeing almost immediately, silently praying Coach Hyuuga hadn't heard.

Coach Nogi _had_ though. "Fujiyama! I heard that! Five extra laps next week!"

Mikan snorted, amused, shaking her head. She had forgotten how silly teenage boys were.

The politer boys bid her a goodbye with, "Please come again! We loved your cookies!"

Finally, Youichi stood in front of her again. He was ready to leave too, with one strap of his rucksack dangling from his shoulder. Without preamble, without Natsume here to interfere, he continued with his interrogation, "Why do you like Natsume?"

Mikan smiled at his directness. She also didn't miss the way he called him by his first name.

Enigmatically, but very honestly, she replied, "Because he built a fire just to keep me warm."

Youichi gawked. "He built a _fire_?"

"It's a metaphor."

"Oh." Then, he smiled. "That's nice."

Her eyes caught Natsume; he was walking towards them, holding a football in one hand, and cones in another. "Yes," she softly agreed, "it is nice."

* * *

Natsume bought them sandwiches for lunch. The sun was up high now; it was warm and bright. She was waiting for him on a bench, one that overlooked the pretty park. She had bought the drinks.

After they were done with lunch, they both spoke to one another at the same time:

"Natsume, do you want to—"

"Mikan, can I ask you—"

They both paused.

"You go," Natsume offered.

"No," she smiled, and insisted, "I can wait. You go first."

He cleared his throat. He couldn't back out now. "Yesterday, at _Goemon…_ " he hesitated and started once again, this time with a direct question: "Why don't you come anymore? To _Goemon_?" _Is it on my account?_

She picked up his subtext easily. "I thought that was obvious," Mikan very easily said, without a trace of guilt or reluctance; her conscience was clear, "I didn't want you to serve me! I didn't want us to be in a position where I'm continually sitting, and you're continually standing—where we are in the same room but apart—and where we can't leave together."

"We can't leave together? Why not?"

"Well, it's not like you can just stop attending as soon as I leave. Your shift doesn't end with me finishing my meal. And after I'm gone, you'll have to tend to others! I would rather go a restaurant where we can enter together, eat together and then leave together." She clarified; he understood her meaning completely, but he couldn't help but feel something was missing in her explanation.

And yet, "That's silly," he admonished, "you don't need to stop coming on my account. Narumi misses you."

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him. She snuggled against him.

"I just always want you by my side." She quietly confessed.

Comfortably, the afternoon passed.

Then, "Natsume?"

"Mm?"

They were now walking, hand-in-hand.

"My house is empty… do you want to stay over?"

He had not been to that big, beautiful house since January, on that fateful night they had met.

"I have all the essentials you need," she added, trying her best to convince him to agree, "and we can put your clothes in the wash and dry them so they are ready for tomorrow."

But she did not need to try so hard to convince him. His answer had always been yes when it came to her.

"That'll be nice." He agreed.

So, hand-in-hand, they made their way to the nicest house on the nicest street in the nicest part of town.

* * *

To Natsume's surprise, an old man wearing a traditional kimono, his back slightly bent, greeted Mikan in the foyer, after they had only taken three steps in. Natsume had not expected to see anyone in her house. Immediately, he became alert and did his best to look respectful.

"Welcome back, Mikan-sama,"

"Hello, Jii-chan!" she brightly greeted, then, she pulled Natsume towards him, beaming. "Jii-chan, this is Natsume! My boyfriend that I told you about!"

Natsume bowed courteously. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance sir, I—"

"There's no need for that—straighten up," this Jii-chan instructed; Natsume complied, and then, the Jii-chan circled him with an inquisitive eye. "…Yes, very well. He's tall." And then, "He's got kind eyes. And," (he looked Natsume in the eye) "you make Mikan-sama very happy. That makes me happy."

"This is Jii-chan," Mikan introduced him, "he's our head butler."

Natsume's eyebrows very nearly rose at her casual statement. He didn't know people even kept butlers! He thought butlers only existed in stuffy British novels from the nineteenth and early twentieth century.

'Jii-chan' inclined his head, so, Natsume mirrored him, not quite knowing the proper etiquette.

Jii-chan fussed about with Mikan's jacket, and they conversed briefly—Mikan asked him to send someone to collect Natsume's clothes in half an hour, telling him that she wanted his clothes to be washed, dried and ironed for early tomorrow morning. Jii-chan nodded in comprehension, then asked about dinner.

"We'll order something," Mikan airily said, "don't worry about that."

"Very well, Mikan-sama,"

As he shuffled off, Mikan grabbed Natsume's hands and pulled him up that beautiful staircase that he remembered from last time. Without all those guests, without that music from the party, her house truly looked like a fairytale castle—perhaps Rapunzel's tower, twirling upwards, grand and majestic. She was giggling excitedly, drawing him deeper into her tower.

"I thought you said your house was empty," Natsume remarked as they reached her floor.

She looked confused. "It is. Father's gone to New York and Kaname-oniisama is in London."

By then, Natsume knew about the Yukihara family—she had told him about her father and brother's line of work.

"But your 'Jii-chan'—"

"Oh!" Mikan understood. "Oh, the help is always here. When I said empty, I meant my family is not here. Jii-chan oversees the house. He delegates the house affairs to the maids and cooks."

Natsume raised his eyebrows. It was almost as if he had stepped into a time machine or into a different plane of reality—no one else he knew had 'help'.

"They clean and cook? Every day?"

"Well, yes," Mikan said, not finding anything she said to be absurd or abnormal, "Jii-chan's been with our family since my grandfather's days—"

"Wait, isn't he _your_ grandfather?"

"Who, Jii-chan?" Mikan laughed, "I wish! Sadly not—I've always called him Jii-chan though. When I was younger, I did think he was my grandfather. He's the closest thing I have to family in this place."

Finally, they reached her room. It was splendid. The soft, white plush carpet; the fine lace curtains; an immaculate queen-sized bed in the centre, with lavish sheets and an excessive number of cushions; a huge plasma screen fixed on the wall; the twin twinkling bedside tables—it looked like something out of a home décor magazine. Of course, she also had a walk-in wardrobe and an ensuite bathroom, one that boasted a champagne coloured jacuzzi.

 _Jesus, fuck_ , Natsume thought. She told him to make himself at home, but he didn't know what to do with himself in such a room. This was so far away from his understanding of home. He was worried he might ruin or taint something. He suddenly felt very small—then and there he truly understood their differences. The glaring disparity was blinding his very eyes: her, in this _castle_ , with _help_ —

"Natsume?" He felt her fingers curl around his wrist. "What's wrong? You look stupefied."

He blinked and shook his head. "Sorry,"

"No," she did not let him go so easily, "something's wrong. What is it? Are you okay?"

He opened and closed his mouth. The worries from last night now returned to him, and worse, they had trebled. _Goemon_ seemed so insignificant now. Now, he feared he had no place _at all_ in Mikan's life. How could he, when he was so ordinary, and she so extraordinary in every sense of the word?

"It's just… I feel a bit disorientated," he slowly explained; her gaze was fixed on him and she listened to his words carefully, "everything is so different."

"Oh… you mean, with Jii-chan? Does my family having help bother you?" She seemed genuinely concerned. "Please don't worry—we treat them all really well! We pay them fairly and—"

"It's not that. I'm sure you do treat them well; I don't doubt that." his hand cupped the side of her face, and the other on her waist pulled her closer to him, "It's just… different. No one I know lives like you, in a place like this, so it's all very new."

She visibly panicked about his discomfort. So, he quickly added, hoping to reassure her, "I mean, I'm sure that if we had money to spare, we'd also think about getting help," ( _lies, lies_ , his mind chided him—never in a million years would he or his father consider hiring someone to clean their home).

"I'm sorry," Mikan blurted out, and clutched his front, "sometimes I—"

Her reaction made him feel regretful; hurriedly, he intervened.

"Mikan," he interrupted, his voice earnest, "you've done nothing wrong. Why should you apologize for your lifestyle? I'm just acclimatizing; that's all. Don't apologize,"

"You must think I'm a spoilt brat," she said, her voice small, paper-thin.

"No, I don't." He then smiled, "There's only one spoilt brat in my life and that's my little sister."

She burrowed her face into his chest. He hugged her.

He opened his heart to her and confessed, "It's not you, it's me. I suddenly felt worthless, and I projected my insecurity onto your lifestyle. That was wrong of me; _I'm_ sorry."

She suddenly looked up at him, her expression fiercely resolute and steadfast. "Don't feel insecure about all _this_ ," she exclaimed, her voice absolutely serious, "never let _this_ make you feel like that." She suddenly moved away from him, and her arms whirled around, motioning around at her room. "All this? _Fake_. This lifestyle? _Poison_. There's no true value here. Jii-chan, the maids and cooks are the only good things in this house. The rest is pure venom. This place has _never_ been my home."

She did not need to go so far, Natsume thought. "Mikan…"

Tears were glistening her eyes. He had never seen her cry. The tears weren't falling, but they were there and they terrified Natsume.

"I know I'm being ungrateful when I say that," Mikan continued, her voice wavering ever so slightly, "a typical rich bitch complaining about her life when diamonds surround her—but there is _nothing_ enviable about this life. It all looks pretty, it all looks perfect but that's only a façade. The décor only hides the ugly truth, disguising it to be something it's not. It's a house, but it's not a family that lives here. Not really. We're all strangers. The truth is, my father is an emotionally abusive bully and my brother is emotionally unavailable for me. And my mother," she forced a contemptuous laughter, one that tried to hide the true extent of her hurt, "is _completely_ unavailable. She lives half of the year at hotels in Monaco, and the other at a rehab centre in Los Angeles. She's addicted to cocaine. I guarantee you that no one in prison has done more cocaine than my mother. But the law will _never_ touch her."

Her hands were shaking uncontrollably now; adrenaline coursed through her as she spilt all the fury that she had kept bottled in her heart for so long. The hurt, the resentment and hatred were gushing forth. Natsume let her release it all; he just watched over her with a protective eye.

"And it's not just my family. _Every_ family around me is like this: broken, but held together with money and a good dose of pretence. We're all the same. We all pretend that our lives are perfect, but we all know this to be untrue. We're also similar in the way that we're all excellent at stabbing each in the back. We know exactly who's sleeping with whom, who's cheating with whom. We know all about our fathers' mistresses. We know we can break the law and get away with it. We know how much bribery costs in certain places. We're the happiest when there's a scandal in our vicinity. The cheating, the backstabbing, the scheming, the lies, the money, the drugs— _that's_ what this lifestyle is all about. That's my world. _Everyone_ around me is like this. I can't escape from it—it's in _me_ too. Sabotage runs in our blood. We're wretched because we're rich. We're rich because we're wretched. Wretchedness and richness are two sides of the same coin."

 _Enough_ , Natsume decided; he did not want her to drown in the black bile of resentment. He reached out and held her hand; she did not withdraw from it, so he pulled her in and met her halfway. His arms enveloped her and he kissed the top of her head as she leaned in, resting her head against his neck. He kept her lips against her hair.

"It's okay. I'm here."

She nodded, and then her arms circled him too. He held her for comfort; she held him for support. He couldn't tell if she was crying. He let her be.

"I hate that I made you feel wretched when _I'm_ the wretch," she quietly wept.

"That's not true, on both accounts. I'm fine, and I've never thought of you in that way." He vowed soothingly. "You're not the person you think you are. If only you saw yourself the way I see you…"

She never wanted to let him go. He was everything she had been waiting for, dreaming for, hoping for, praying for. In his arms, she felt at home. In his presence, she _did_ believe herself to be better than she knew she really was; he made her want to be _good_ , wholesome and strong. She wanted nothing more but to be completely worthy of his love. He cleaned her soul every day.

"I _love_ you," she professed, "Natsume, I _love_ you."

He held her face. He saw that tears had fallen. He wiped the traces away. Then, he leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes before his lips touched hers, and as soon as they did, she threw her arms around his neck and she kissed him back passionately. They breathed into each other.

Before things got too heated between them, there was a knock on her door. He looked up, taking a deep, steadying breath as he did.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yes?"

"Miss," it was a maid on the other side, "I was told to come collect some clothes for washing?"

"Oh, yes—" she turned to Natsume.

Natsume shook his head. "I can wash my own clothes. If you show me where the washing machine is, I'll do it myself later."

She did not persist; instead, she let him be. "Sure," she said to him before she called the maid, "Kana-chan, don't worry about it! Natsume will do it later himself."

"Alright, miss," Kana answered, and they both heard her footsteps retreat.

"I think the washing room is on the second floor," Mikan said, more to herself than to him, as if trying to remember its exact location. Her eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation, "Or maybe it's on the first floor…"

Natsume smirked at her. She was cute.

"What?" she asked, smiling back. "What are you grinning about?"

"Your house is too damn big." He teased, his hands snaking around her again, patting her ass. "You need a map to navigate. I need one too. What if I lose you in here?"

"I'll wear a bell," she jested, giggling, "that way you'll always be able to hear me, even if you can't see me." Then, she cocked her head to the side and her expression turned inquisitive, "What kind of house do you want to live in?"

He languidly indulged her curiousity. "Well your first mistake is 'house'," he informed her, his tone relaxed, "I like flats. Less cleaning involved."

"Fair point and duly noted," she smiled, then giggled at his expression, "what else?"

"Let's see…" he pondered, venturing into his mind, "I'd like to live near a park. I would like my study to have a good view. That's about it."

She smiled serenely. She liked his vision: it was simple and wholesome. The more time she spent with Natsume, the more she understood that true beauty existed in simplicity. Once again, more peacefully this time, she renewed her sentiment, "I love you."

She exhaled, content. He had watched over her during a storm, making sure she reached the harbour safely. Now safe and calm, she was finally standing with him on the pier.

"I love you too." He promised her.

* * *

From then on, whenever her house was empty, he stayed over to fill it.

She loved it when he came over.

Jii-chan also took a great liking to Natsume. Last time, they all had dinner together. It was the happiest she had ever felt in her house. It had felt like an evening with her true family.

* * *

 **A/N** : The ride will sometimes be smooth and other times very bumpy… and I think I feel some turbulence up ahead! See you tomorrow, don't forget your seatbelts, teehee!


	4. Cause for Concern

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Four: Cause for Concern**

* * *

Hand-in-hand one Sunday, Natsume and Mikan were strolling past a market. Rows and rows of trinkets, cups, books, jewelleries, paintings and fruits were laid before them, and Mikan's head moved from left to right, as she took everything in. She had never been to a bazaar such as this in her entire life; she felt like a child on Christmas morning.

"Oh, Natsume! Look!" she stopped by a jewellery stall. The seller grinned at them both and wished them a good afternoon.

"Hello," Mikan brightly greeted back, then, she pulled Natsume's attention to the necklaces. "Look how pretty! Look!"

Here she was wearing real gold, earnestly admiring fake gold necklaces. Fondly, Natsume looked at her before he inspected the necklaces himself. The necklaces all had a different letter suspended on the chain. They were sweet, yes, but nothing special. He looked back at her and was surprised to see sweet desire in her eyes.

Amusedly, he murmured inconspicuously in her ear, "You don't want this,"

"I do!" Mikan vibrantly insisted, gazing up at him. "Please buy it for me!"

Throughout their relationship, Natsume had not bought her anything yet. Sure, he treated her to meals, drinks and movies but he had not bought her anything material yet. He did not know whether he wanted this cheap necklace to be his first gift to her. She deserved more than that. And yet, she looked so enthusiastic.

But he spotted a hitch that would douse her desire: "They don't have an 'M' for you," he pointed out with his finger.

She looked down at the necklaces. He was right; there were no 'M's. Her eyes scanned all the letters. Then, "They have an 'N'! For Natsume. I want it!"

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "Is this for you or for me?"

"For me, silly!" She laughed. "I want your letter around my neck."

Not five minutes later, Natsume clasped her new necklace around her neck. She had previously been wearing a handsome rose-gold Van Cleef necklace but it was now replaced by this unassuming one, purchased in the streets of downtown Tokyo. The Van Cleef was stowed away in her purse, already forgotten. Mikan admired her new necklace in the reflection of her darkened phone screen.

"I love it," she affirmed affectionately, her cheeks rosy, "thank you for buying it for me."

He liked seeing his initial around her slim neck. It looked good. But he wondered whether it was enough. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Enthusiastically she nodded. "It's the best present I've ever received." Her fingertips touched it, then traced the N. "Thank you."

She meant her words with all her heart.

* * *

She always wore it. She never took it off. It was her treasure.

* * *

Tonight, Mikan was joining Natsume to dinner with his friends. She was both excited and nervous to meet them; she hoped to make a good impression, but she also prayed that they would treat her like Natsume's girlfriend, not Mikan Sakura The Socialite. She did not want them to smile and laugh at everything she uttered; rather, she hoped that their response to her would be genuine, like Natsume had always been.

She had already met Luca. There were two others: Koko and Mochu, and according to Natsume, they were both acquainted with Mikan Sakura The Socialite, having previously seen her in magazines and on social media.

Would her reputation get in her way tonight? Would her reputation obscure and alienate her true nature to those around her, as it always seemed to do?

Always, except when with Natsume.

On the other side, Koko and Mochu were positively bouncing with excitement at the prospect of finally meeting Mikan Sakura. They both felt that this introduction was long, long overdue—she had been dating their friend for over six months now! And from the way Natsume spoke of her, it seemed like she was there to stay. They had never, in all their many years of friendship, seen Natsume so serious, so in love. They couldn't wait to see Mikan Sakura in the flesh ("my eyes might implode from seeing someone so fit," Koko joked; Luca hit him on the head for that dumbass comment; "what!" Koko cried indignantly, "you said so yourself that she's the fittest girl you've ever seen!") but they also couldn't wait to meet her properly and get to know her, to finally acquaint themselves with the woman that their friend loved so much.

The three friends were waiting for Natsume and Mikan to arrive; they sat in a dark, cosy booth, in the nook of this izakaya. The small fabric curtain that hung further offered privacy in this little alcove—without pulling it back, they weren't able to see the rest of the restaurant. Luca had picked out this izakaya in Shibuya; it boasted good food and private booths for the customers. Natsume had mentioned that Mikan's comfort was of paramount importance.

The smoky smell of yakitori filled the izakaya. The lights were dimmed. The chaotic sound of conversation, laughter and the bustling footsteps of the waiters all harmonised here.

"I'm starved," Mochu remarked as he looked at the menu.

Mochu was verbally contemplating whether to order saké or beer when suddenly, the small curtain was pulled back by small hands—

Mochu shut up; immediately, they all expectantly looked up—

It was Mikan Sakura—

Mochu's jaw fell. He was starstruck. Koko gaped. For once, he was speechless.

Natsume was standing beside her.

Then, Mikan beamed. "Hello! I'm Mikan!"

At the sound of her voice, Koko shot up, knocking over his chopsticks in the process. "Hello, I'm Mikan—wait, shit, no! I mean, I'm Koko—"

"I'm Mochu!" Mochu practically shouted (Luca's hand slapped the side of his own face—he felt deeply embarrassed on behalf of his two friends—but then he remembered how he had stuttered and stammered too when he had first met her). Red-faced, Mochu cleared his throat, "p-please sit Mikan-san," he indicated to the two empty seats before them.

"Thank you," Mikan smiled, inclining her head slightly. The three were sitting on one side of the table, and she sidled in to sit opposite Luca. Natsume followed her, sitting close by her, pressing his thigh against hers.

"Hello, Luca-san!" Mikan greeted.

"Hi, Mikan-san,"

"Is no-one going to say hello to me?" Natsume inquired in a dry voice, smirking. His eyes leered at his two friends, _you idiots_ , they read. "Hi Koko. Hi Mochu. You both look flustered."

"Shut up, asshole," Mochu mumbled.

Mikan laughed. "It smells so good in here! I'm so hungry. Oh, and," she turned to look at Mochu, "I think we should get saké."

Mochu blushed deeper, realising that she must have heard his loud voice before she saw his face. It was unnerving to be teased by Mikan Sakura's clear eyes. Her beauty was disarming.

They were all very cordial and very polite towards her. They asked about her day, they spoke of the hot weather and they attentively poured her some water. They weren't really being themselves; they were on their very best behaviour, purposefully censoring their usual crudeness and camaraderie. This forced civility continued until the alcohol came.

Four bottles later, things were very different…

Now, Natsume was blushing, blustering, "Shut up, asshole—"

Slightly drunk, Mochu cackled tauntingly and his loosened tongue continued his tale jeeringly, "—And so, drunk as a sailor, Natsume stumbled onto a fucking _shinkansen!_ He was too drunk to realise that he was not on his train home, and he passed out as soon as he sat down. Three hours later, Natsume wakes up, sober, only to find himself in _Osaka!_ "

Koko pounded his fist on the table as he howled with laughter, reminiscing their stupid teenage days. Even Luca, pink in the cheeks, threw his head back in laughter as the memory of Natsume's SOS call resurfaced. ( _"Luca, I'm in fucking Osaka." "What the fuck!?"_ )

Greatly amused by both the contents and Mochu's flair in storytelling, Mikan laughed heartily and when she looked at Natsume, her laughter only doubled. She clapped her hands rather drunkenly.

"Enough, enough," Natsume tried his best to settle everyone done, to very little avail. Their hyperactive laughter continued, bouncing off each other, reverberating in this alcove.

"More, more!" Mikan beseeched, defying Natsume, "I want to hear more!"

Natsume groaned and covered his face. The laughter increased. Suddenly, he felt Mikan press her upper-body against his; he glanced down to see her head nestled against his chest. She was looking up at him, her cheeks rosy, her eyes brimming with heartfelt affection and amusement.

"My poor baby," she cooed, her lips curled, teasing him, "teased so mercilessly."

He rolled his eyes, but his arm held her waist, securing her in place. "You're drunk," he looked up at his friends, "you're _all_ drunk—" Then, he noticed all their shit-eating grins. He glared at them. "Stop—"

"Natsume loves Mikan! Natsume loves Mikan! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Koko sing-songed at the top of his voice, waving his arms around as if he were at a concert. Next to him, Luca joined in with the arms and Mochu added some wolf-howls for effect.

Natsume suddenly felt as if he were babysitting. He figured it was time to order the cheque and send everyone home.

The waiter brought the cheque very quickly; clearly, he wanted them all out of the izakaya before someone smashed something.

"Thanks," Natsume took the cheque, inclining his head apologetically.

Beside him, still pressed against him, Mikan peered at the cheque. She felt his body shift slightly—he was looking for his wallet—

"I'll pay," Mikan suddenly remarked, removing her head from his chest; she pulled her purse from her handbag, "Dinner's on me—"

All the boys immediately protested:

"No way," Koko cried, " _we_ invited _you_ for dinner. We'll get it."

"But I drank the most—" Mikan tried to protest.

"That doesn't matter," Mochu dismissed her, "we got it, we got it,"

"We can split it four-ways," Luca piped up, looking at his friends, pulling his card out now. The boys all agreed.

"But—"

"Mikan, we've got it," Natsume upheld, his arm pulling her back in against her.

She fell against it, the grip on her purse loosening. She looked at three and quite unexpectedly confessed, "Natsume won't let me spoil him. _Ever_."

Mochu grinned, "That sounds about right."

Koko joked, "Do you want to spoil him?"

Not joking, Mikan earnestly answered, "Of course I do. But Natsume won't let me."

Luca smiled. "Don't take it personally. He's always been like that."

"I am _here_ ," Natsume quipped, "you all talk about me as if I'm not in the room—"

"Oooh!" Mochu suddenly squealed excitedly, "I've got a solution! You can spoil _us_ instead! We won't complain!"

Mikan laughed; her cheeks hurt from all this laughter. His friends were wonderful.

Then, Koko smacked his glass accidently off the table. It shattered.

"Oh, fuck!" Koko whimpered.

Natsume groaned. "This is how it all ends: with a big fuckin' bang and a whimper."

* * *

Luca, Mochu and Koko bid a warm goodbye to Mikan. She thanked them for dinner and the anecdotes. They told her it was nothing, and that it was their pleasure. They said that they loved her company and that they hoped to see her soon. She promised to arrange something with them all again very soon. They wished her a safe and pleasant journey home. She returned the sentiments and then hugged them one by one to seal her goodbye.

Natsume, who was taking Mikan home, said goodbye to his friends too, telling them that he would text them sometime tomorrow.

"Your friends are _wonderful!_ " Mikan praised, as she walked hand-in-hand with Natsume, swinging their hands enthusiastically as if she were a child, "Do you think they really liked me? Or were they just saying that? Are they always that funny?"

Her speech was rushed; all the sentences merged and blurred.

He stopped walking. Mikan stopped too, though her response was delayed. "Let's take a taxi back to yours," Natsume suggested; she was swaying slightly and her eyes looked a bit glassy.

She agreed.

He managed to hail one relatively quickly; he let her enter first before he also climbed in, relating her address to the taxi driver.

"So?" Mikan urged, her voice still excitable, "Do you think that they liked me?"

He smiled lovingly at her. He pulled her into him. "Of course they did. How could they not?"

She was very pleased to hear this. "I was so worried I'm so glad!"

"Shh, Mikan," he soothingly stroked her hair. She was overexcited. It was late.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she quickly said, not sounding sorry at all, "but it just went so much better than I expected! They treated me like I'm, well, _normal!_ "

He laughed. "You are normal, silly," he softly kissed the top of her head.

Her heart swelled. "You know what I mean," she peered up at him, "… _thank you_."

"There's no need to thank me. I didn't do anything. That was all your doing."

She crystallised his words and locked them in her heart. She had never felt so invincible in her life. Her soul rejoiced.

"I love you," she murmured, shutting her eyes. All the excitement transformed into tranquillity as she felt his lips and delicate words on her forehead.

The taxi moved through Tokyo; different neighbourhoods flashed past them. Soon, it stopped in front of her house. He paid in cash.

By then, the drunken little Mikan Sakura was fast asleep. He did not want to wake her. As gently and carefully as he could, he gathered her into his arms, and then shifted her onto his back. He moved her arms so they dangled around his neck and then circled her legs around his waist. He stepped out of the taxi and hoisted her up; he kept a firm grip on her thighs as he piggy-backed her to her front door. He could feel her soft, steady breath against his neck.

Once he reached the door, he shifted his weight so she rested securely on his back before he rang the doorbell.

He knew that Jii-chan would be there to welcome her back, happy to see his Mikan-sama safe and sound—

The door opened.

Natsume's words died in his throat.

It wasn't Jii-chan.

No; it was a middle-aged, forlorn man who stood immaculately upright, his stance foreboding and assertive. His very suit spoke of his thundering authority. A deep frown was entrenched between his unsympathetic eyes.

It was Mikan's father, Izumi Yukihara.

His cold eyes moved from Natsume's face to the figure of his sleeping daughter, then back to him. The disapproval in his expression only deepened.

The icy silence was unbearable.

Natsume cleared his throat, "Good evening, sir—"

"I assume that you're the one my daughter's been trifling with recently?"

His harrowing voice pierced Natsume's heart. So easily, so simply, this man (her _father_ ) trivialised their relationship, debasing it to a mere trifle.

And yet, Natsume could not find the courage to fight such humiliation. His strength had shrivelled up. He suddenly saw himself the way that this man did: demeaned and degraded, he felt completely and utterly worthless and devastatingly foolish.

"Yes, sir." Natsume responded, his voice low.

Izumi Yukihara looked very critical; and then, in a hard yet subtly sneering voice, he definitively decided, "Well, as long as _this_ …" his eyes flitted from Natsume to his daughter, "this _dally_ isn't serious then there is no cause for concern."

And then, he was gone. He left the door open. He did not even take his daughter inside. Natsume was frozen solid at the doorstep, but inside, his heart was hammering, screaming.

"Natsume-sama!" It was Jii-chan. As quickly as he could, he shuffled his way over to the door. By his grave expression, it was clear that Jii-chan had just seen what had just transpired, that he had witnessed the brutal slaughter of Natsume's dignity. Once close enough, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Natsume nodded quickly, evasively. "Yeah," he took a deep breath, evading Jii-chan's concerned expression; he swallowed, doing his best to hide his shaky nerves, "uh, Mikan's asleep—"

"Yes, of course," Jii-chan called for help. Ten seconds later, a burly valet appeared and Jii-chan instructed him to take Mikan to her bedroom. As carefully as he could, Natsume passed Mikan to the valet. The valet followed his orders and took Mikan away. Without her pressed against his back, Natsume suddenly felt very cold and empty.

"Natsume-sama, why don't you stay—"

Natsume recoiled; rather feverishly, he shook his head. "No. No, that's alright."

He knew very well that that master of this house did not approve of him. There was no way he was welcome here.

Jii-chan wanted so very badly to apologise on his master's behalf, but he was not allowed to; that would go against propriety. Decorum bid him to keep his mouth shut, to never verbally criticize his master. But he was greatly troubled to see such an expression on Natsume-sama's face. No one should be made to feel such a way by another human being.

"Natsume-sama—"

"I'm gonna go," Natsume proclaimed abruptly, desperate to just leave and grieve, "it's good to see you, Jii-chan," And just like that, he turned his back and disappeared into the night.

Mournfully, Jii-chan shut the big, heavy front doors, locking Mikan away from Natsume.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter is slightly shorter than the rest, but it just didn't ~ _flow_ ~ with the next part. Jii-chan shutting the door just seemed like a much better ending, a better full stop for the chapter, so I cut it here.

Thank you to all the readers!

Quick responses to chap 3:

 **Layliaman98** : Thanks for your constant support! Your dedication really warms my heart :)  
 **Yla M** : I know, this whole story is _drenched_ in 'Call It What You Want', haha (oh, and a generous splash of 'Dancing With Our Hands Tied' from the same album). I'm sure you didn't miss the necklace reference either, hehe. The warmth will continue, I promise, and you'll meet the Hyuugas very, very soon. I enjoyed writing the teenagers, especially the completely random Fujiyama lmao – god knows from what corner of my imagination he sprouted from… I'm updating this every day (as January sucks and you all deserve something golden in your lives) so you won't have to worry about/ruminate on the turbulence too much as it'll usually pass by the next day. Thanks for your review :)  
 **DreamingReverie** : Thank you! Honestly, I really struggle when writing Natsume – my interpretations are always so… so… so _not_ him, lol. All my stories portray him as this big mushy softie, with little to no 'tough' exterior. I just can't write him very accurately (to the manga, that is). At least you like it, hehe. And girl, preach: my heart can't take heavy drama either! I won't lie, there WILL be bumps here and there in this story (it's a relatively long story – around 50,000 words – so strap in for a long ride), but the destination is a good one, I promise. Mikan has a lot of unresolved issues concerning her family/past/lifestyle, so this story will definitely address that (as you could probably tell from the encounter with Mr. Yukihara up there). Don't worry though; it won't be one of those 'rich parents try to split up children/Romeo and Juliet' tropes – nothing that dramatic, more Natsume and Mikan trying to figure out how to fit into each other's worlds without causing any earthquakes. Thanks for the review :)  
 **Cassie Sharpie** : Thanks for your review! Well, I hardly know much about her life per se, but I feel like that song in particular speaks for itself and that's why it partly inspired this story. That, mulled wine and _Notting Hill_ , haha. :)  
 **xxFlaming Milcutexx** : Thank you for your three reviews! :)  
 **Trigunskitty** : Hahaha, I know, this is totally vomit-worthy. It'll probably also give you cavities, so be warned… haha. Thank you for your kinds words! :)

 _Izakaya:_ conventional, casual Japanese gastropub  
 _Shinkansen:_ bullet train

See you tomorrow :)


	5. Trophy

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Five: Trophy**

* * *

Dally. Dally. Dally. Dally. Dally.

Was that all that their relationship was? Was that how her side saw their relationship? Was that how _she_ thought of their relationship?

He was completely serious about her. She was his everything. She was his ride or die. He was so in love with her.

But now fear and uncertainty gripped him. He couldn't forget Izumi Yukihara's words from last night. Was this just a 'dally'? Was he getting too invested in this 'dally'? Had he misunderstood, misread the signs? Had all his friends, who had sent him such supportive messages this morning about Mikan, been mistaken too? Were they all imagining something that did not exist?

He could hardly concentrate on his research.

The dark thoughts were pushing him underground, so far deep that he couldn't even contemplate on the stars this morning.

His phone rang.

It was Mikan.

For the first time in their relationship, her name lit up on his phone did not bring him joy. It only brought fear. Was she calling to break up with him?

Hesitantly, he answered, "Hello?"

" _Good morning!_ " her voice was bright—very slightly, it helped alleviate this darkness—" _Natsume, I'm sorry I got so drunk, I didn't even—_ "

"It's okay. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself last night."

" _Why didn't you stay last night? When I woke up, I was so disappointed to see that you weren't there by my side._ "

He was silent, trying to find the right words to say.

" _Natsume, is everything alright? Do you want to talk to me about something?_ "

Is this just a passing dally, he wanted to ask. He chose not to.

"I'm fine. I'm just a bit busy with my work. I need to speak to Jinno," this was a lie, "so I'll call you later, alright?"

" _Okay. I love you."_

"Me too. Bye,"

He hung up.

* * *

Mikan placed her phone, then her elbows on the tabletop. Her hands covered her face.

She was in the dining room, drinking a coffee alone on her family's gargantuan table.

Soon, tears were falling. Silently, she cried in her hands.

She knew Natsume wasn't being honest with her. He was not okay. He was not fine, but he insisted otherwise. It broke her heart.

She heard Jii-chan's soft voice calling her name. He sounded worried, and spoke very tentatively, "Mikan-sama… I'm sorry to have told you. Perhaps I should not have spoken."

"No," she inhaled sharply, wiped her face and then uncovered it, "no, Jii-chan. Don't apologize. I'm glad you told me."

He bowed slightly and told her he would go get her breakfast. She nodded.

She had woken up slightly disorientated. She could not remember how she got in her own bed; naturally, she assumed that Natsume had brought her here. He was not in bed with her, so she guessed he must be downstairs with Jii-chan, getting ready to leave for work. Excitedly, she had put her robe on and bounded down the stairs, hoping to surprise him with a kiss. Yet it was her who received a surprise: instead of Natsume, she had found her father downstairs. Up until that moment, she had no idea that he was even in Tokyo, let alone in their house. He bid her a steely good morning and then informed her that he was flying to Hong Kong. He left soon after. That's when she found Jii-chan; she asked him if Natsume had stayed over, her heart pounding at the thought of Natsume meeting her father. She saw the way Jii-chan averted his gaze, rather guiltily. She knew then and there that something was wrong, that something unpleasant had occurred. She pleaded him to tell her the truth. Her blood went cold when Jii-chan told her what had transpired last night between Natsume and her father, whilst she was asleep.

So, here she was, sitting alone in her house.

Tears welled up in her eyes again and she remembered Natsume's lie. He could not tell her what had really happened last night, just like she could not tell him that she knew exactly what had been said last night.

Her tears were hot.

Resentment towards her father grew. He always ruined everything she loved; this was a cruel vendetta against her existence, against her physical resemblance to her mother, against her choices, against her surname.

 _Fuck_ him. Fuck her father.

Resolve hardened her heart; for the last time, she pushed the tears away from her face. Her father will _not_ ruin this—she was determined to keep this, to keep Natsume, to protect this, to be his forever. She was going to stand by Natsume's side.

She grabbed her phone. She dropped him a message: _Just to reiterate, I love you. Have a good day in the office xxxxxxx_

Then, she messaged Hotaru Imai. _I want to speak to Persona. Can you set up a meeting?_

* * *

Mikan Sakura and Hotaru Imai exited the glossy, sophisticated and magnificent high-rise building. Their red-soled Louboutins pushed them into the streets of Tokyo; quickly, they both shielded their face away from the sun and the public with their expensive and tasteful sunglasses.

They walked in the direction of their pre-ordered, exclusive taxicabs.

"Are you sure about this?" Hotaru asked Mikan for the hundredth time.

"Yes," Mikan replied with no hesitancy or doubt, "I'm sure."

"Do you _understand_ what you've—"

"Yes, Hotaru, _I do_." Mikan firmly interrupted; she stopped walking to make her doggedness clear. "I'm not an idiot. I was there too. I understood everything Persona said."

Rei Serio, often called Persona by those who knew him, owned and managed a leading and prestigious law firm. He stood at the top of Tokyo's legal ladder and his clients consisted only of the rich and famous. He was an exclusive lawyer that did not really care much for justice or human rights; rather, he made sure that his rich clients stayed rich so he, in return, could stay rich too. He knew of all the loopholes, and though his law firm never broke any laws, they knew exactly how far they could go before things were deemed unlawful. They stealthily traced that thin line very carefully. He was brilliantly smart, deviously so, and very much part of the elite crowd. Hotaru's family was well acquainted with his. Mikan had asked Hotaru to come today for that very reason, and because she knew that she would need a witness when signing the contract. She was also aware that Hotaru could be trusted to keep her mouth shut. Hotaru, unlike so many others she knew, did not engage in gossip. She would not tell others about today.

Hotaru looked rather wary. "Well," she shrugged, "it's done now."

"Yes, it is." Mikan nodded obstinately and with an air of finality. She hoped this would mark the end of this conversation.

But Hotaru persisted anyway; she had so much more to say about Mikan's decision, which she felt to be very brash and illogical. "I just don't understand why you would do this. You've only known him for six months," Mikan groaned, tired of hearing this, but let Hotaru continue, "what if you break up? You're blindly handing him a big, gold cake, relying on the ludicrous notion that your love is eternal. Not to mention, what if he's not what you think he is? What if he's _only_ after your money—if he is, then you've just signed off—"

Mikan drew the line here: she could not accept Hotaru's accusation of Natsume being a gold-digger. She would not let Hotaru slander him so, or let her paint him to be something he was not.

"He's _not._ " Mikan inflexibly interrupted, her eyes blazing and absolutely determined. "Don't say that. Not _everyone_ thinks and dreams of money," her last statement sizzled with the intent to injure.

Unaffected, Hotaru deadpanned, "I find that hard to believe."

"I love him more than anything, Hotaru," Mikan explained for the final time, "Could you at least _pretend_ to understand that?"

"And Andou? What about him? Have you forgotten about him—"

Mikan did not want to hear this. She didn't want to acknowledge, let alone _think_ about Tsubasa Andou. "You know how I feel about _that_. Drop it, Hotaru, _please_."

Hotaru sighed, exasperated.

She was worried for Mikan.

* * *

That Sunday, Natsume and Mikan were planning to meet in a café, on the private balcony.

Natsume arrived before her; he ordered cold tea, and sat rather blankly, thinking very deeply. He had spent the week licking his wounds. Izumi Yukihara's words had really cut him—the first few days of this week, Natsume had spent revaluing his life. He felt utterly worthless doing so: at twenty-four, he had no status, he had no property; he was a no one. He was an insignificant human. But these feelings and all the pain subsided as the week past. He realised it was pointless to compare himself to a man of such prestige anyway. They were worlds apart. Besides, it wasn't as if he sought out prominence. From a young age, Natsume knew that all he wanted was to be happy. Why then should he look at and assess his life from Izumi Yuikihara's high standpoint? Natsume did not need to conform to Izumi Yuikhara's standards and understanding of success. These thoughts cleared the clouds and he had channelled all the remaining hurt into his work, returning back to the undiscriminating universe.

Mikan appeared before him. As always, she looked beautiful.

Happy to see her, he smiled.

She heartily returned the smile and kissed the top of his head before she took the seat facing him. She ordered peach juice.

Then, Natsume cocked his head to the side, bewildered; she had just laid down a big, bulky bag. "What did you bring?" He inquired.

"It's my sleepover kit," She announced, glancing down at her bag.

They had plans to stay the night at a hotel, but that did not explain the size of her bag. "They have all we need there," Natsume pointed out.

True—the hotels always provided shampoo, conditioner, soaps, razors, toothbrushes, robes, etc.—there was no need for Mikan to bring her 'kit'. She should have known this; after all, they had spent many nights in hotels during their relationship.

She bit her lip, "…I, well," she glanced up at him and then cleared her throat, "I was wondering… well, I was hoping you could invite me to _yours_ tonight?"

"Mine?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean my home?"

Nervous, she nodded, still biting her lip. "Was that presumptuous of me?"

He faltered. She was welcome to his, of course. He could finally introduce her to his small family. But he thought of his home, a cramped one-floor flat with no garnishes, no flourishes, no cooks, no maids…

"You sure you wouldn't prefer a hotel?" Natsume evasively turned the question back to her—he wasn't flat-out refusing, but he wasn't jumping at her request either. He saw the way her expression weakened.

"I would really like to go to yours," Mikan said, her voice small. "Is it not a good time?"

"I mean… you're welcome, of course, at any time but…"

"But what?"

They had been dating six, nearly seven months. By normal standards, her wanting to visit his home was nothing out of the ordinary. But his insecurities gnawed at him. He thought of his kitchen that was smaller than her ensuite bathroom.

"It's fine," Mikan suddenly said, trying her best to brush aside her misstep, her voice too cheery to be true; she smiled at him, as sympathetically as she could, "the hotel works perfectly."

"Mikan," he took her hand on the tabletop, "it's just…"

She patiently waited for him to say something.

Her father's derisive expression flashed in his mind. He did his best to suppress it.

"It's just that if you came to mine, you'll realise how different my life is to yours. You'll see me differently, and I don't want that."

His brutal honestly silenced her. Her jaw faltered; she didn't know what to say. Then, she collected her words, "I won't see you differently—"

 _She will_ , Natsume's mind lamented, _the illusion will shatter. It'll be the beginning of the end._

"—you don't _really_ think that, do you?" she asked, hurt, "You don't _really_ think that I'll change my tune at the sight of your home? Do you honestly think that my feelings towards are so weak and pale? Natsume, I love _you_ , I don't care for the other details—"

"Mikan," he tried to placate her, "it's not that I doubt your feelings. It's just that I don't think you understand how _different_ my life is to yours."

"… And you don't want me to see that?" Her voice was small but concerned. She squeezed his hand. She wondered if he was thinking about her father. Her heart wept at the possibility.

He took a sip of his cold tea and then looked into her searching eyes. She was not pressuring him; no, she was trying to understand him. But as he looked back at her, he saw that something was not quite right: he had not noticed it until then, but she looked exhausted: her eyes were swollen and slightly red, accessorised with purple bags. Such details were disguised by her make-up but Natsume saw through it.

"Mikan… are you okay?"

She blinked. Then, she cast her eyes down. _And to think I tried so hard to hide it…_

"I don't want to be in the house right now," was all she confessed. She did not explain any further.

He noticed that she never used the word 'home' when talking of her house. Her heart was just not there. It was not her place of refuge and comfort. His eyes caught her bag, her 'sleepover kit'. What had she been feeling when she had packed it, he wondered.

"My sister will be home," he suddenly informed her, "she's back for the summer holidays. She's messy, nosy and boisterous. In fact, she's probably made a real mess of the place in these few hours. My dad's unconventional and comes up with some really awful dad-jokes. Are you sure you won't mind spending an evening with them?"

"… You mean…"

Natsume nodded. "You can come over," he promised her. Some part of his mind howled in protest ( _she'll know and she'll run away and you'll lose her forever!_ ), but Mikan's exultant and very thankful expression muted it, "stay the night, Mikan."

Eagerly, she nodded. "Yes, please."

But as they made their way back to his home, him carrying her bag, his heart pounded more painfully with every step they took. Was this really a good idea? _This would have happened at some point anyway_ , the logical voice in his head reasoned, _she would have come over someday, one day or another, so why not today?_

They took the train. The train carriage was relatively empty on this Sunday afternoon, so she did not need to obscure her fame irrevocably with disguising hats and glasses. She sat close next to him, thigh-to-thigh, despite the fact that there were many empty seats around them. Her head was also pressed against his shoulder.

Then, she looked up at him, "Do your family know about me?" She was curious—he always spoke about them; though she had never met them, she felt as if she already knew them.

His hand, that was resting there, squeezed her thigh comfortingly. "They know that I have a girlfriend called 'Mikan'," he always omitted her surname when he spoke of her to them, thinking it to be unnecessary detail, "I told them about you the day after I asked you out."

Her heart swelled. She knew how much his family meant to him. It meant a lot to her that he had told them of her. "All those months ago?"

He nodded. "I speak of you often."

She pressed her lips together, trying her best to hold in her gushing emotions. Some part of her wanted to cry. Slowly, she pressed her head against his shoulder again and her small hand found Natsume's. She entwined their fingers. He treated her so much better than she treated him—none of her friends, save Hotaru, knew of his existence (but even she knew nothing _of_ him). Her father had met him in unfortunate circumstances and clearly had shunned him. She had never spoken of him to those around her; she had never even uttered his name. No one knew that she was dating him. No one knew of his existence, despite the fact that he was the most important person in her life.

He was her secret.

She knew he deserved so much better.

He deserved to be her trophy. Her golden trophy.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just want to say, **this won't be a 'rich parents try to sabotage and split up their child's relationship/Romeo and Juliet' kind of story.** It won't be that dramatic. No insane sabotaging plots, no blackmailing, no paying off Natsume to stay away from his daughter (yada yada). **This story is about Natsume and Mikan trying to find a place in each other's lives.** Like every other couple in the world, they will go through hiccups and disputes, but more often than not, their clashes will come from their different lifestyles. Mr Yukihara is a dick, but he is not an antagonist in this story.

Quick review replies:  
 **Mailyne Salido** : Your words were perfectly flattering, as they were. Thanks very much for reading and enjoying this!  
 **layliaman98** : Yes, I'm very bad at writing Natsume unfortunately – he's not as brave/badass as he is portrayed in the manga… When I try to write him like that, it utterly fails. And like I said above: don't worry, you won't really see Mikan's dad. He's always just brooding in the background, hurting Mikan's past. And I'm sure you'll experience a love even more beautiful and wonderful one day!  
 **Cassie Sharpie** : Well, there will be many little drops rather than one big drop! You'll like the next chapter, it's super lovey-dovey – you'll have no teeth by the end of it. And you're so right: I've dealt you enough blows with _Resistance_ ; this comparatively is nothing! My version of Natsume is very inaccurate, but I really struggle to write him accurately to the manga. I'm in my early twenties, and the thought of impudent, pissy and controlling brat doesn't really appeal to me (strangely enough lmao). Personally, so far, I've really enjoyed writing Aoi's character most. You'll see her in the next chapter.  
 **Flaming Milcute** : Yes, Izumi is very cold even with his daughter. He's a class A asshole who thinks he's better than everyone else because of his money and status. Kaname is also distant. Her father and brother are completely warped and completely obsessed with their lifestyle. They can only see life from that 1% perspective and Mikan is sick of their entitlement and cruelty, resentful of her family's appaling treatment of her. She wants to distance herself away from her lifestyle, now more than ever since she has met Natsume. The teenagers will reappear in the course of the story :)  
 **Trigunskitty** : Well, the next chapter is like super syrupy. I fear for your molars… haha. I like writing about friendships! And thank you—the Osaka story is inspired by my idiot friend who ended up in Colchester; he got on the wrong night bus, drunk of course, and woke up the next morning in this old woman's flat in the middle of nowhere. The granny had found him sleeping at a bus stand so took him back to her's.

The next chapter is HUGE (like, we're talking a whopping 8,000 words) and really fluffy/lovey-dovey, so it should make up for the recent light turbulence. See you tomorrow!


	6. Fantasy and Reality

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.  
 **Content warning:** S-E-X ! woooo! It's right at the end of the chapter; nothing too explicit, but if you are too young/uncomfortable with it, please skip the last few paragraphs.

 **Chapter Six: Fantasy and Reality**

* * *

Natsume fumbled around with his key—finally, he managed to insert it in the lock. Mikan was standing beside him, keenly, smiling. He opened the front door.

"After you,"

Mikan entered; immediately, the warm scent of baking enveloped her. The entrance was littered with shoes—she spotted Natsume's Nikes and saw some cute heels and boots. She looked up; the corridor was narrow, dotted with four doors, and it led to the kitchen, dining area and living room. Paintings of a beautiful woman peppered the white walls. She was just about to ask Natsume who this woman was when a voice rung from the end of the corridor, from the kitchen.

"Natsume? Is that you?" It was his little sister.

"Yeah," Natsume called back, then remarked, "I thought you were going out today,"

" _Ugh_ , I was planning to but—" from the kitchen, she launched into an intricate tale about how her friend's poor behaviour.

Natsume half-heartedly listened to his little sister's bitching session; he turned to Mikan and said, "Shoes off, please."

"Oh—right, of course," her Westernised home did not follow the traditional Japanese ways—she held onto Natsume as she slipped her heels off.

"— _such_ a bitch—Oh?" Aoi stopped with her anecdote. "Is someone with you?"

"Yeah—"

Suddenly, they both heard slippered footsteps rush over, " _Oooh!_ Is it Mikan, your—" Aoi Hyuuga finally appeared in the corridor. She was holding oven gloves in one hand. She was smiling deviously, exuberantly, like an evil little child but such cunning was washed clean from her face when she saw Mikan Sakura standing in her corridor. Now, she gawked—her jaw fell and her eyes ogled shamelessly.

Mikan moved to speak but—

" _Holy motherfucking God!_ You're… you're Mikan _Sakura!_ " She took a step back in pure shock and disbelief.

"Hi, Aoi-chan—"

" _Oh my GOD!_ " Aoi practically screeched, "Mikan _Sakura_ said my name!"

Natsume gaped too. He had no idea that his little sister knew of Mikan. Granted, he knew that she consumed magazines like novels, but he had always assumed that her attention was focused on those boy-bands and male models that she adored so much—

"Natsume! You're dating Mikan _Sakura?!_ "

"Aoi—"

"You've been dating _Mikan Sakura_ for _six months_ and you didn't think to tell me? God, you're such a—"

"I didn't think you'd know her," Natsume honestly replied.

"Didn't think I'd know— _agh!_ " Aoi shrieked, then squawked, "Natsume, you idiot! Everyone knows her; everyone _loves_ her! I mean," she turned to Mikan and started to bow incessantly, fawningly, "everyone loves _you!_ "

"That's not true," Mikan tried to dissuade such claims.

"And _oh God_ —" Aoi hyperactively continued, now staring at her brother incredulously, like he was completely ludicrous, "you invited Mikan Sakura _here?_ Are you insane?! You should have said something—the kitchen is a _mess!_ "

"You mean you just made a mess," Natsume wryly amended, "what are you making—"

"Cinnamon cookies," she then looked at Mikan and quickly added, "don't worry, they're gluten-free—"

"Oh—"

"Why does that matter?" Natsume frowned, confused. He could hardly keep up with his sister's frenzied speaking; he was sure Mikan couldn't either. Aoi was running at a different speed to them—in fifth gear, shooting ahead. In hopes to stabilise Mikan, he inconspicuously gripped her hand.

"Um, _Natsume!_ " Aoi cried, flabbergasted. "Mikan's gluten intolerant!"

Natsume was surprised to hear this. He turned to her. "You are?"

Mikan shook her head, "No, I'm not—"

He didn't think so. They ate pizza often, after all. He couldn't believe that for a second he had doubted himself and their interactions.

"But I _literally_ just read in _Harper's Bazaar Japan_ this morning that you're gluten intolerant! They had a four-page spread about your exercise and diet regime!"

Natsume couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Now, Mikan squeezed his hand.

"Those things are never real," she quickly explained, "I didn't give that interview. My PR publicist just approved of an exercise and diet regime that was written by someone at _Bazaar_. I didn't even know I was featured this month."

" _Wow,_ " Aoi's eyes sparkled, "that is _so_ cool."

"Aoi…" Natsume cautioned.

"God, yes, I'm being so rude! Please, please, come in!" Aoi waved her arms around. "It's not much, but we've got good reception in the house! Ooh, do you want the Wi-Fi password?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you—"

Holding her hand, Natsume gently led her down the corridor towards the open-plan kitchen, dining and living room. Briefly, he glanced back at her and smiled apologetically. She softly kissed the air in response, hoping to convey that she was not unsettled by his little sister's reaction. The main room came into view.

There were no walls separating the living, dining and kitchen space. Everything was open. Mikan thought of her cold dining room, that big, domineering place she always had dinner alone and then thought of her living room that always seemed like a birdcage rather than a place of relaxation. She hardly ever ventured into her kitchens. And yet here… everything was accessible, everything was free.

She loved it; _I would never lose Natsume here_ , she realised.

She spotted photos of Natsume on the fridge, upheld with magnets. She gravitated towards them, pulling Natsume along as if she were in a trance. Many photos decorated the fridge. Photos of family vacations, childhood pictures, birthday parties, coming-of-age festivals, Natsume in robes at his undergraduate and postgraduate graduations all adorned it, in no particular order or fashion. Like a beautiful, kaleidoscopic dream, all these memories were sprawling, dilating.

Now that she thought about it, there were no photos of her anywhere in her house. Decorations were never personal like this; no, in Izumi Yukihara's house, embellishments were always expensive art-pieces, bought at snobby charity auctions or purchased from prestigious European art-dealers.

She touched a photo of Natsume; his two front teeth were missing and he was smiling widely into the camera. "This is amazing; I love it!" she remarked.

"I was six," Natsume clarified.

"And this one?" she pointed at a photo of him with a bowl of strawberries.

"I was eight. I asked for strawberries for my birthday."

She laughed. "I'm not even surprised to hear that." Then, she pointed at a woman—it was the same woman whose portraits hung on the walls in the corridor. "Is that your mother?"

Natsume nodded. "That's mum," he confirmed.

"She's beautiful," Mikan softly said, "… you look like her."

She thought it was so lovely how, even after death, Natsume's mother was still present in their house, smiling at them from all these photos. She spotted many photos of Mrs Hyuuga sitting and laughing with her children in her arms. Mikan's heart clenched. They were such wonderful photos. She loved the one of Mr and Mrs Hyuuga embracing. They were so in love. And from what she gathered from all those portraits in the corridor, Mr Hyuuga still clearly loved his wife. How different Mr and Mrs Hyuuga were from her loveless, neglectful parents.

Natsume watched her face, admiring her expression; he wanted to kiss her, but he could feel Aoi hovering in the background. As much as he loved Mikan, he didn't want to kiss her in front of his nosy little sister. He opted to squeeze her waist affectionately instead.

Mikan suddenly laughed, "Is this baby you?"

He looked, "Yeah,"

Her laughter only increased. "Such a grumpy expression! It looks like you're _glaring!_ " Affectionately, she held his arms that were circled around her waist. "You were so cute!" She then pointed at a photo of a young Natsume holding Aoi's hand. She was clearly no older than three in the photo. Mikan's heart melted at child-Natsume's protective hold of his little sister. "You and Aoi-chan look adorable!"

Behind them, Aoi squealed, "Mikan Sakura called me adorable!"

Natsume tried his best to ignore his sister's outburst. He replied, "Mum took that one. She loved taking photos of us."

Her heart swelled. Quickly, she did her best to dismiss the sad fact that her mother had never taken a photo of her—instead, she focused on Natsume. She was so glad that Natsume had parents who loved him so much; who were so _proud_ of him: this homage on the fridge told her everything she needed to know.

"Mikan-sama, would you like some tea?" Aoi asked.

"Oh, yes please," Mikan turned to look at her, "and please drop the 'sama'. Just Mikan is fine."

With Natsume, Mikan sat down on the small dining table. It only sat four people—it was perfect. On this table, she would be able to see and hear everyone present well and clearly. Soon, Aoi joined them with a plate of her freshly-baked gluten-free cookies and three cups of tea.

"Thank you," Mikan smiled, "they look great,"

Aoi blushed, "I don't think they're up to your standards but please enjoy them!"

Eagerly, Mikan took a bite. "They're delicious!"

Aoi, at that point, _couldn't even._ She _died_ right then and there. _Deceased._ Mikan Sakura had _literally slayed_ her.

"Mikan's staying over," Natsume then mentioned (and once again, Aoi _literally_ died at this news— _Mikan Sakura is spending the night at my home!_ ).

"I hope that's okay,"

"That's _more_ than okay, Mikan-san," Aoi reassured her, "I'm in charge of dinner preparations tonight. Do you like katsu?"

"Yes," Mikan smiled, "that sounds great." Then, after a thoughtful pause, she added, "I can help you make—"

"No, no, you're our _guest!_ " Aoi exclaimed. "Besides, I won't start cooking until later, so please, stay seated. Also, can I just say," she changed the direction of the conversation, her eyes now fixed on Mikan's top, "you always wear the best clothes _ever!_ "

"Aoi…" Natsume warily sighed, raising a reproving eyebrow at his little sister.

At eighteen, Aoi was incredibly impressionable and frivolous. She loved Instagram and Snapchat, and often spent her free time FaceTiming her friends, gossiping to the high heavens.

Mikan saw no harm in Aoi's words; under the table, her hand found Natsume's thigh, and she pressed her fingers against him, reassuring him that everything was all right.

"Thank you," she smiled, "that's very kind of you to say."

"Can I also say that you're like the most gorgeous person I've ever seen? Like _ever?_ " Whilst Natsume agreed with his sister's statement, he did not like the way it was delivered. Aoi sounded painfully sycophantic. Aoi persevered, "You've like, literally, got it _all!_ You're living _the_ life! Honestly, you are _blessed_ with such a face! You know, you're better looking than all the Instagram models I follow!"

Mikan laughed, disagreeing nonchalantly, "That's not true. Besides, your brother is the better looking one between us," subtly, she tried to bring Natsume back into the conversation; she did not want him to feel left out and ostracised by Mikan Sakura The Socialite.

"Pah! _Sure,_ " Aoi sarcastically guffawed.

"No, I'm serious!" Mikan insisted, glancing at her man then back at Aoi. "You too, Aoi-chan. You're _both_ far better looking than I am."

"No way," Aoi rejected such statement; to her, that was entirely impossible. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it—she was determined to find _receipts_ , verifiable online _proof_ to prove her point. She suddenly gasped, remembering something.

"I _loved_ that gold dress you wore to Lee Jin-young's birthday party last month," Aoi continued to fawn; Lee Jin-young was a popular Korean singer who was currently headlining in Japan. Mikan was surprised to hear Aoi say this; Aoi disclosed the source of this juicy information, "Sumire Shouda posted a photo of you guys with Jin-young on her Instagram; I liked it this morning,"

"Oh," Mikan smiled, and then shrugged, "I didn't know—"

"You don't have Instagram, do you?" Mikan shook her head, "Why not? It's great! I follow Sumire Shouda like she's my religion; you guys are bffs, right? She often posts pictures with you," excitably, Aoi popped her phone on the dining table and opened the app. Quickly, her electric finger found Sumire's page and she placed the phone down on the table so both Mikan and Natsume could see. "See? There you are!"

There, in the tiny little screen, stood Mikan like Natsume had never seen her before, completely glammed up in a skin-tight golden dress that cascaded past her ankles. She looked regal, like a queen, the burnished candelabra illuminating her. She was glowing like a winter candle, smiling seductively into the camera. Next to her stood a handsome man with ice-sharp cheekbones—the Korean singer—his hair was dyed blonde, and he donned a rather eccentric lime green outfit. Mikan's hand was placed on the blonde man's shoulder. On his other side stood a dark-haired woman (he recognised her as the person who had opened the door to her house that first night) wearing a satin silver dress. Her smile showed her white pearly teeth. The whole photo reeked intoxicatingly of fame, wealth and status, like rich perfume and spicy unguent. Underneath, the caption read, 'Happy birthday LJYoung, our favourite singer! Your voice lights up our days. We LOVE you forever!'

Natsume felt momentarily stunned. To him, the woman in that photo and his girlfriend sitting beside him were two completely different people. It was very strange to think of them as the same person.

 _No wonder everyone is so starstruck by her_ , his mind finally understood; for _that_ glittering goddess was the person everyone else envisioned when they heard her name. Conversely, when he thought of her, his mind always rejoiced with gossamer wisps of her soft smile, her light laugh; stitching together the memories of them together, loving each other in bed, all haloed in a white light of pure simplicity…

It was so peculiar to think that Aoi had encountered Mikan Sakura The Socialite online and in magazines, and known about her throughout the whole duration of their relationship. Perhaps she had encountered Mikan Sakura even before he had.

It was bizarre to consider that Natsume, six months in, was still was completely unfamiliar, unacquainted with his girlfriend's alter-ego and her glamourous life—one which he was definitely not a part of. A nervous voice in his heart squeaked, _which is the real her? The one I see or the one they see?_

But then, his eyes quietly spotted the 'N' necklace around her neck in the photo. It didn't twinkle as much as her dress or earrings did, for it was small, simple and modest, but it was _there_. _He_ was there; even in that world, she kept him close to her heart, securely. He silently relaxed.

"Oh, here you are again!" Aoi fussed as she scrolled down on the page, "See?" This time, Mikan was winking at the camera, a flute of golden, sparkling champagne in her hands. Diamonds were draped lavishly on her wrists (again, Natsume spotted the 'N'; it heartened him). Beside her, Sumire Shouda, her hair in a high-ponytail sat crossed legged, pouting enticingly. This was captioned, 'Sumikan Forever'.

Mikan frowned, "What's Sumikan?"

Aoi looked scandalised at Mikan's question. She looked at her, aghast; Mikan could only shake her head, firmly establishing that she had no idea what the word meant, ignorant of its apparent colossal significance.

"Sumikan! It's your best-friendship name!"

"My what, sorry?"

"Sumire and Mikan… Sumikan!" Aoi was so perplexed by the vacant look in Mikan's eyes that she actually put her phone down the on the table. "That's what you call each other, right? Whenever you hang out, it's Sumikan time, right?"

Mikan laughed incredulously. "No! That's absurd!"

Aoi was positively flummoxed; mystified and confounded to learn that what she saw online did not correspond to the reality that she had created for her idols. Her baffled expression did not lift so easily.

Once her laughter subsided, Mikan saw the naïve bewilderment present in Aoi's face. "Aoi-chan," Mikan supportively smiled, "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this but everything you see on _that_ , on social media, online… it's all false. Sumire and I aren't bffs, as you say. That's a total exaggeration. We're just friends, childhood friends. We only became friends because our fathers know each other. Our families run in the same circle and she's the same age as me; that's why I see her often. She knows this too. I'm certain that she didn't even come up with that nickname: her publicist probably did. And all the photos you showed me… they're not _really_ real either. Gun to my head, I couldn't name one song by Jin-young, or whatever his name is… I was just invited to his birthday party. I'd never met him prior. And if I'm honest, I didn't actually really want to go, but my PR agent said it would look good if I went, so I did. That photo documents my _only_ interaction with him, ever."

All this information was very hard for Aoi to digest; the perfumed illusion was cracking.

"But…" She clutched onto the fantasy, "but why would you go if you didn't want to?"

"That's the requirements of fame." Mikan simply explained. "Just like a businessman goes to the office, my profession is to show my face and get my photos taken at certain events. I'm required and requested to go to these places. It's mutually beneficial. It's favourable for Jin-young, Sumire and myself to be seen together because those sorts of interactions are appealing to the public. It's trendy, keeps us all relevant, but it also further perpetuates this sense of exclusivity, thereby boosting our reputations. That's your public relations seminar 101," she joked; "It sells to look good and be surrounded by others who also look good. Which is a complete _joke_ because in reality, I don't look like that!" She laughed, motioning towards Aoi's phone and then back at herself, "I mean, just look at me! For all these events, a whole _team_ of stylists get together and dress me up. Sometimes it takes them _two_ hours to get me looking like that. And you know what the funniest thing about that is? They spend two hours on me and on average, I spend around five minutes at these events and then I leave." She then glanced at Natsume, and smiled warmly, finding his hand to hold lovingly, "I leave, I disrobe and then I go meet your brother. He's _real_ , not them. Those hearts online mean nothing; his is the only one I care about."

Aoi saw the way her brother squeezed Mikan's hand in response. She still couldn't quite believe that _she_ was his brother's girlfriend. Natsume had spoken of 'Mikan' often, very warmly, never dropping her surname. Natsume had never cared for such frivolity, and from the way he was now gazing at her, Aoi understood that Natsume loved Mikan as Mikan, not as Mikan Sakura. The fantasy of celebrity was all crumbling, but the disintegration was not devastating: rather, it revealed the chaste truth beneath. Mikan Sakura was a human being first. Seeing the small but very real interaction between Natsume and Mikan helped Aoi realize that.

She decided to make an effort to see Mikan as the person Natsume had been speaking of for the past six months, rather than as the glossy version she had confronted earlier online.

And so, as Natsume's little sister, Aoi suddenly felt compelled to tell his girlfriend, "You guys' PDA is kinda gross."

And just like that, Mikan's surname faded away. They ate and drank, and Aoi finally got to speak to the girlfriend she was so intrigued to meet. Kindly, Mikan asked about Aoi's interests (although, she felt she already knew the answer to this—Natsume had told her a lot about his little sister).

"Well, I'm studying biochemistry," Aoi told her (Mikan knew this), "it's interesting enough. Dad thinks it's a good degree. But everyone in my course is so weird and nerdy! The majority of the students _and_ professors are male. I don't mind too much—they are all nice, you see—but it's like the boys look at me like I'm some exotic specimen. They can't seem to get their heads around the fact that I'm a woman doing science who likes wearing makeup and looks presentable all the time! And I'm just like _hello!_ It's _easy skincare!_ "

Mikan laughed. "I know, Aoi-chan. Men think women are either beautiful or smart. It confuses their little minds when they see intelligence and beautiful mixed together."

Natsume thought both his girlfriend and his sister were beautiful and intelligent—he kept this thought to himself, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

"Speaking of makeup, what lipstick are you wearing?" Aoi smoothly asked, her eyes glinting, "I love it!"

"Oh," Mikan wracked her brains, "I actually think it's from Sumire's collection—"

" _Sumire's Lip Kit_?" Aoi gasped, excited. Mikan nodded in confirmation. "Wow! It looks so good. I've seen them online! They're so pretty! But they are slightly out of my budget—hey Natsume, maybe you can get one for me for Christmas—"

"Oh, wait a second…" Mikan bent down and unzipped her bag that was placed on the floor, between her and Natsume. She rummaged for a whole before she drew out a pretty designer make-up carrier. From the carrier, she pulled out an unopened _Sumire's Lip Kit_. She held it out to Aoi.

Aoi inhaled sharply, her eyes _sparkling_.

"It's the red one," Mikan said, " _Rose Ruby_ , I think. You can have it. I don't suit red lipstick. You'll look great in it."

"Oh my God, oh my God, thank you, thank you!" Aoi squealed, high-pitched, and she shot out of her chair to go give Mikan a tight hug. "Thank you so much, Mikan!" She inspected her new lipstick. "Wow, it's _gorgeous!_ "

"Aoi—give it back to her," Natsume suddenly said, shaking his head disapprovingly ever so slightly.

"Why?" both Mikan and Aoi questioned, their eyebrows raised.

Natsume looked at Mikan. "You don't need to give her that—"

"Why not? She wants it," Mikan shrugged, "and you know I never wear red lipstick. Besides," she now grinned like a true Cheshire cat, "you don't let me buy you anything. I'll get things for your sister instead."

Aoi clearly had no intention to return this gift. She brightly announced, "I'm going to go try it on!" and popped off to the bathroom, where the lighting was the best.

Left alone, freed from his sister's presence, Natsume turned to Mikan and said, "You didn't have to," – despite such words, his tone was accepting and thankful.

"I wanted to." She reassured him, smiling.

"Thank you," he leaned to kiss her on the cheek, "but don't spoil her too much. She's insatiable."

Mikan grinned, then murmured huskily in his ear, "Like _you._ Although your appetite is quite different."

To prove her words true, he kissed her on the mouth. She reciprocated enthusiastically, putting her hands on his cheek. They murmured endearments to each other. Mikan had never felt so safe and loved. Natsume felt peaceful; all the worries that had plagued his mind this week melted away. His eyes glanced at her necklace, reaffirming everything he felt in that moment.

 _She loves me, I know the real her, our love is real, she is mine to love and cherish._

They heard Aoi's footsteps returning. They stopped kissing, but exchanged secret smiles as Aoi took her seat. Aoi's lips were now bright red.

"It suits you so well!" Mikan complimented, admiring how it brought out her eyes.

Natsume agreed. "It looks nice,"

Aoi beamed, very pleased. "Thank you so much, Mikan! You're honestly the best," she then turned to her brother and questioned, "how on earth did you get her to date you?"

Natsume opened his mouth to respond, but Mikan effortlessly answered on his behalf, "Actually, _I_ wanted him first. _I_ chased after _him!_ I was relentless!"

Aoi looked shocked, her mouth hanging in disbelief. She looked at her brother, who casually shrugged, thereby verifying Mikan's words.

"No way!" Aoi cried. "Really?"

She nodded. "I got him in the end," she smirked.

"It didn't take much convincing," Natsume adding, smirking too.

Their smirks held their affection for each other.

Aoi's expression of disbelief and wonder dissipated. " _Yuck_ , you two are—hey," her magpie eyes now caught the necklace that dangled prettily on Mikan's neck, "That's cute—wait, a second," she then squinted at it. She blanched; her eyes weren't playing tricks, it _was_ an 'N', not an 'M'. "Oh _God_ ," she stuck her tongue out, "you guys are the worst!"

Mikan laughed heartily and her fingers caught her necklace. Natsume looked slightly bashful.

"You guys really _are_ one of _those_ couples, huh?" She accused, shuddering slightly. The way she said _those_ was the same way people talk about gross things.

Mikan did not even bother to deny Aoi's accusation. "Yes, we _are_ one of those lovey-dovey syrupy couples."

"Yuck!"

"It's not my fault!" Mikan laughed, "He brings it out in me!"

Aoi snorted, "Well, you bring it out in _him._ Trust me, Natsume used to be the asshole that broke up with people on their _birthdays_."

"It wasn't her birthday…" Natsume weakly defended himself, his voice holding some reluctant recognition of his former bad behaviour.

"Oh, tell me more," Mikan deviously cackling, her eyebrows wiggling encouragingly, "I like hearing these stories about him."

The afternoon passed with different anecdotes. Aoi led the conversation, but Natsume often chimed in, speaking frankly about his past, believing his future to be with Mikan. The sun was falling steadily from the sky.

At one point, Mikan excused herself to go to the toilet.

"It's the first door on the left," Natsume told her.

Once out of sight and out of earshot, Aoi leaned in and favourably whispered, "Count your fucking blessings; she's _wonderful_ ,"

Natsume whispered back, "I have; I still do." Then, with a more serious expression, he requested, "Don't tell your friends, okay?"

He expected her to pout in disagreement, anticipating that she would plead before arguing that this juicy news concerning her brother's girlfriend just _had_ to be shared with her friends. Instead, she stuck out her pinky. Smiling, he curled his pinky around hers. It was a childish tradition of theirs.

"Deal," Aoi promised. She knew a good thing when she saw one. She neither needed to nor wanted to broadcast this to the world.

Then, the house phone rang. Natsume stood to go pick it up. Mikan returned as he paced, speaking on the phone.

"…Yeah, no problem… Alright, I'll see you in twenty minutes," Natsume hung up, returning the phone to its base. "That was Dad," he informed them, "I'm going to go pick him up from Tokyo station."

Aoi frowned. "Can't he just take the train?"

"He's got all his canvases with him," Natsume said as he picked out his jacket from the back of his chair, "they're heavy. He's had a long day in Kyoto too."

Aoi nodded, understanding. "Shall I start making dinner then?"

"Yeah, why not. Dad's probably hungry," he looked at Mikan, "Is an early dinner fine with you?"

"Of course!" Mikan said. The Hyuuga siblings were so accommodating.

"Great," Natsume rifled around the counter for the car keys; once he located them, he pocketed them before he swooped down and kissed Mikan on the cheek, "I'll be back in forty minutes, okay? Relax; make yourself at home."

Mikan nodded, smiling. "Drive safely,"

He kissed her cheek again.

"Where's _my_ kiss?" Aoi childishly demanded, her finger tapping her cheek.

Natsume rolled his eyes and flicked her cheek with his forefinger instead.

"Owch!" Aoi cried, exaggerating the pain.

"Be _good_ ," Natsume chided, smirking. He bid them both a goodbye and left.

"Right," Aoi stood up from the table; she then walked towards the living space and turned on the television, "Mikan, feel free to watch something. We have Netflix! I'm going to start cooking—"

Mikan stood up too, trailing Aoi, "Can I help you cook?"

"No, no! Don't worry about it—"

"I would really love to," Mikan insisted, "honest."

Aoi looked unsure. But then, "Okay, then." Together, they proceeded to the kitchen. From the counter, they could see the television perfectly well. Aoi loved to cook with something playing in the background. "So, like I said before, I'm making katsu," fluidly, she opened the decorated refrigerator and pulled out pork cutlets and eggs. Then, she got out panko and white flour from the cupboards.

They washed their hands, and Aoi handed Mikan a spare apron. Mikan felt very cute in polka dots.

"Do you want to beat the eggs?" Aoi was purposefully delegating the easier tasks to Mikan, "the bowls are in _that_ drawer and the chopsticks are _here_ ," she pulled out mixing chopsticks from underneath her.

"Um, okay," Mikan tentatively took the chopsticks. She went to get a bowl. She picked a random one—she showed it to Aoi, and Aoi approved. But then, she hesitated with the eggs. Mikan suddenly looked very nervous and ashamed.

Noticing something to be amiss, Aoi questioned, "Is everything all right?" She stopped cutting the cutlets, the sharp knife hovering.

"I'm sorry," Mikan blurted out, her face falling, embarrassed, "I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never cracked an egg before!"

Aoi gawped. "What?!"

"I'm _useless_ ," Mikan confessed, slapping a hand to her forehead. In all her years, she had never cooked herself. She had spent her whole life paying others to cook for her. "I don't know how to do anything—"

Aoi put the knife down. "No, don't worry! It's okay! We all have to learn sometime, right? Look, I'll show you—" she held an egg, "it's really simple. You just crack it against the side of the bowl," she demonstrated flawlessly. "See?"

It looked simple enough. Mikan took the second egg and attempted to imitate Aoi. Unfortunately, she had hit the egg too hard; it _exploded_ , with the fragments of the shell spilling into the bowl.

"Oh, fuck!" Mikan cursed, mortified.

"It's okay, it's _literally_ fine!" Aoi kindly assured her before she burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" Mikan cried, sniffing, but soon, she was laughing too out of sheer self-deprecation. "God, Aoi-chan I'm _useless!_ You must think that I'm just some stupid airhead."

"No, no you're not. At least, you won't be after I'm through with you. I'm going to teach you how to cook," Aoi decided then and there.

Thirty-five minutes later, Mikan and Aoi had finished making katsu for four people. They smelled absolutely heavenly. Mikan felt incredibly proud of herself as she prepared the table. She had accomplished something _concrete_ , something small but _grand,_ something that will be enjoyed by the person she loved most. She felt giddy—she couldn't wait for Natsume to eat the katsu that she had helped to prepare with all her heart.

Aoi had been a very encouraging teacher. Sometimes she laughed at Mikan's cluelessness, but her light approach never made Mikan feel inadequate.

"Aoi-chan, you're a wonderful teacher!" Mikan declared sincerely.

"I can teach you more dishes next time,"

Mikan nodded enthusiastically. Then, rather shyly, she asked, "Could you teach me Natsume's favourite dishes?"

"Sure," warmly, Aoi smiled. Then, "You really like him, huh?"

Mikan did not hide or understate her feelings towards Natsume; very easily, she confessed, "Being with your brother is the most honest thing that I've ever done in my life."

Aoi took off her apron. Mikan followed suit. Aoi held out her hand to take it. Mikan passed the apron to her, thanking her.

"Well…" Aoi slowly began, as she balled up the aprons in her arms, "I know this is usually the part where I'm supposed to pull a face and tell you all of his dirty secrets and how he's just a gross, mean older brother… but I can't." She smiled sheepishly at Mikan. "I think he's the best person I know. He's been taking care of me ever since mum died. Dad's always busy with work—so, Natsume was the one who took me to taekwondo classes and helped me with my homework. He even used to take me to see princess movies. When I was thirteen and I had this massive fallout with all my friends, he listened to all my problems and helped me overcome them—he _still_ does. He listens to me _always_ , so patiently, no matter how silly I'm being. And… and I know I have to be deserving and worthwhile of all the sacrifices he makes for me," her eyes were now glossy, "… I wish I were a better sister to him."

"He absolutely adores you, Aoi-chan," Mikan softly said, "he couldn't have asked for a better sister."

"I'm sure you know that dad's a painter—they aren't kidding when they say that artists don't make money. He puts so much time and effort into each work, but they don't amass much. But dad loves his job and Natsume never resented him for following his passion. So, as soon as Natsume was old enough, he took on the role of the breadwinner. He provides for all of us, but he never complains. And when he was accepted to MIT—"

Mikan did not know that Natsume had been accepted to an American university. Natsume had never told her that.

"—we were all _so_ proud, but it quickly became clear that even with the scholarship, Natsume wouldn't be able to afford living in the States. He said it was fine and that he was happy with Tokyo University. But I _knew_ … I still know deep down that Natsume would have been able to go if he hadn't taken my university fees into account. Even though I was still in secondary school, even then, Natsume knew he would be the one paying for my education. He factored and accounted in _my_ future when considering his own. I'm sorry," Aoi suddenly apologised, her tone different, shaking her head, "you probably don't want to hear all this—"

"No, don't say that…"

"I guess all I'm trying to say is that Natsume is the most selfless person I know. That's all."

Mikan nodded, and she touched Aoi's arm. "I know,"

Mikan did not know that Natsume was paying for Aoi's university tuition. He had told her about his own tuition, but had omitted his sister from the equation. Her heart felt incredibly heavy.

"Right!" Aoi cheerfully exclaimed, forcing a bright smile on her face, "Well, I'm going to stick these," the two aprons, "in the washing machine as they got some oil on them." She then inspected her own clothes. "Hmm… I think I'll stick my top in too," they had fried the katsu in hot, sizzling oil, so little specks of oil now dotted her sleeves, "do you want to wash your clothes?"

Mikan looked down. Her sleeves too were speckled with little oil marks. "Yes please—if that's alright."

"Of course! Why don't you go get changed into something else in Natsume's room? Then, you can just hand me your top," Aoi breezily suggested. "Natsume's room is the second on the left,"

"I'll help," Mikan insisted.

"Okay then," Aoi smiled, "we'll run a wash after dinner, okay?"

Aoi left to go get changed. Mikan picked up her bag and made her way towards Natsume's room. Still, her heart felt heavy—Aoi's revelations plagued her mind. She could not believe how much responsibility Natsume carried, from such a young age too. It shamed her to think that she had gone to Tokyo University without even _caring_ for the fees. Never in her life had she even considered _fees_ —education, to her, was always expected, not a privilege.

Mikan pushed the door to Natsume's room. She peered into his small room before entering. She turned the lights on as she closed the door behind her, then dropped her bag on the floor. She smiled as she saw his desk—paper, books, pens, highlights and paper-clips were sprawled across it. He had a bookshelf: his books were crammed tightly together, piling on top of one another, some spilling onto the floor. And then, her eyes found his bed.

His bed was bigger than a single but smaller than a double. She pressed her lips together—she couldn't help but compare its size to her own. _Hers_ , the elegant queen-sized bed with six pillows; _his_ , small and cramped with one pillow. She then noticed his wardrobe—it was the same size, if not slightly smaller, than her Juice Fridge in the pantry (her house had many different fridges for different things). She then realised that his whole room was smaller than her walk-in closet.

She took the seat by his desk, suddenly overwhelmed by her excess. She felt disgusted by her house, her situation, her lifestyle. She felt wretched, _stupid_ , and utterly ignorant. There she was, living in such a house, complaining. Here he was, working every day, never complaining. She did not need to work. He would always work. She was a pampered _ridiculous_ princess that deserved _none_ of what she had. She had never worked for _anything_ in her life: everything had always been given to her.

She thought again of MIT. Natsume had the chance to go to the best university in the world. He _was_ the best. And yet, he couldn't because of _money_ … this was a problem that she had _never_ encountered in her life. In fact, money had always _solved_ her problems…

Suddenly, her eyes caught a red book on his desk. She looked at it. On the front, Natsume had written, _Budget Book._

Mikan couldn't help but cry. As silently as she could, she sobbed, averting her eyes away. Her hands covered her face entirely as her shoulders soundlessly shook.

He had to budget. She thought of all their dates, and all the times that he had paid on her behalf. Now, she was certain, he accounted _her_ into his weekly spending. He had accounted all those coffees, all those dinners, all those evenings spent in hotels, diligently recording every penny he had spent on her… meanwhile, she owned many black credit cards and spent her money without any frugal thought or hesitancy.

Through her tears, she spotted a photo. Natsume had stuck it by his lamp. She thought she recognised it. Curiously, sniffing, Mikan leaned in to examine it. Just as she thought—it was Ueno Park… it was _her_ in Ueno Park. She was not looking at the camera; it was the back of her head, and her shoulders were showing. She did not know that he had taken such a photo of her, and her heart warmed to see it on his wall, right by his bed. He kept her close to him, unostentatiously but lovingly.

Her mind flashed: she thought about all those paparazzi with their glaring cameras, screaming her name, demanding her to look at their camera, to show her face to them. She remembered all those aspiring celebrities who would grab and claw at her arm, and pull her into their vicinity for a profitable selfie. She remembered all her ex-boyfriends and friends who had used her for publicity.

And yet her man was content with _this_ photo of her—a photo not her face, but a photo that held _memories_ of their time together.

Determinedly, she wiped her tears away.

 _I will be better_ , she decided, _I'll be worthy of him._

She pulled off her top. She stood up, with the intention of rifling through her bag to find a replacement jumper, but she stopped. She found one of Natsume's hoodies at the foot of his bed. She picked it up. She had seen him wear this hoodie before; it sported the logo of Arsenal, a well-known English football team, the team that Natsume supported.

She pulled it on. As she did, her head was engulfed by his comforting smell. Her head popped out the other end. She used the sleeves to wipe the remaining tears.

Two minutes later, Natsume and his father returned home.

Mikan was still in Natsume's room—from the other side of the door, through the walls, she heard Aoi warmly greet Mr Hyuuga. She heard her fuss about his canvases. Then, she heard Natsume ask, "Where's Mikan?"

"She's in your room," Aoi easily explained, "knock—she might still be changing! Dad, let's take these to the living room—"

Natsume opened his door without knocking. "Hey," he smiled at her, closing the door behind them.

Mikan welcomed him back with a hug. He kissed the top of her head briefly.

"You're wearing my hoodie," he noticed, looking down at her. He seemed very pleased by this.

She nodded. "Can I?"

He nodded. "Of course. It looks better on you." He grinned, but then, he frowned. The tiredness was back in her eyes. "… You've been crying again."

"They were good tears," She said softly, gripping his arms. "I was just thinking how much I loved you."

He did not look entirely convinced. He had not, after all, forgotten that earlier today she had been seeking refuge. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Not today," she lightly dismissed; then, as brightly and as sincerely as she could, she smiled. "Now, I want to meet your dad!"

She grabbed his hand. He gripped it. He pulled her out of his room and together, they made their way to the main rooms, following Aoi's voice.

"Dad," Natsume interrupted; they stood side by side, Mikan smiling shyly, "This is—"

"Ah! Mikan!" Ioran Hyuuga shuffled over, beaming; he held out a hand, Mikan took it, and they shook hands. His eyes gleamed gladly, favourably. "Natsume's told me so much about you! It's an absolute pleasure to finally meet you! You've done a marvellous job of keeping my son happy!"

"Oh, thank you, Mr Hyuuga—"

"No one calls me Mr Hyuuga!" Jovially, he laughed. "Only them lot at the bank. Please call me Ioran. Please, please sit down!" He held out a seat for her. Mikan obliged, inclining her head. Natsume sat in front of her, Aoi and Ioran taking the seats beside her. She did not feel enclosed, and she definitely did not feel uncomfortable.

"Aoi told me that you cooked dinner—"

"You did?" Natsume questioned, surprised by this piece of information.

"I helped, only a little," Mikan corrected, sneaking a clandestine glance at Aoi, who discreetly winked back.

The warm buzz of conversation continued through dinner. They all exchanged stories, passing on laughter to each other easefully. Mikan felt her cheek flush from all the kindness and care in the room; at points, she felt positively dizzy. She had never had a family dinner like this. Family dinners to her had always been a stuffy, constricting affair. But not here; not with the Hyuugas.

Everyone's plate was clean empty. There was no waste on the table. Everything had been appreciated.

"Natsume," Ioran stood up, "why don't you make some tea for all of us?" He started to gather the empty plates.

"Oh, please, I'll help—"

"No, no," Ioran smiled, "you see Mikan, we have a rule. The person who cooks does not clean. You both cooked, so Natsume and I will clean up."

"It's how we delegate chores," Aoi said, "it's only fair, right?"

She suddenly felt unable to agree (for she neither cooked nor cleaned). Mikan could only smile.

But the talk of chores reminded Mikan of washing clothes. She reminded Aoi. Together, they stuffed the washing machine. Soon, it was rumbling loudly, repetitively, and rather comfortingly.

"Ooh!" Aoi suddenly shot up, "I'll go get _cards!_ "

"Yes!" Ioran excitedly agreed. "Excellent idea!" Beside him, Natsume rolled his eyes rather affectionately at his family's excitable antics. Mikan looked on at him, watching him carefully, adoringly.

Aoi returned. Soon, the plates were all clean and father and son returned to the table too, son holding a tray of tea. Ioran shuffled the cards. Then, they played a game of daifugo as they drank the tea. The games continued, their cups now empty.

The evening deepened. Ioran saw his daughter yawn.

"Shall we call it a night?" Ioran said, looking around. Everyone seemed to agree. Soon, they were all bidding each other a good night. Yawning again, Aoi was the first to leave the party.

"I leave very early in the morning," Ioran told Mikan, "so I don't think I'll see you tomorrow. So, I just wanted to say that it's been a real treasure to meet you."

"For me too! Thank you so much for your hospitality."

"You're welcome at our home anytime, Mikan."

Natsume and Mikan retreated to his room. He shut the door behind them once again. It was all quiet and peaceful. The lights were off. Natsume turned on the lamp; dimly, it lit up his room.

"I'm sorry it's so small," Natsume said, glancing around, his eyes landing on his bed, "you might wake up with a stiff neck."

Mikan softly said, "I'd take the stiff neck any day if it means having an evening like that."

"You liked them?"

She held him. "They were wonderful. It's no wonder you are too." She then pointed at the photo she had found earlier. "That's really sweet of you. To put me in your room like that."

He looked around to look at it, then turned back to her. He was smiling incredulously, and his hands cupped her face. "Is that why you were crying before? In my room?"

"Part of the reason," she admitted, her arms circling his neck.

"You're silly," He leaned down and kissed the corner of her cheek, "you're as sentimental as they get."

She did not contradict him; instead, to his surprise, she untangled their arms and suddenly pushed Natsume down on his bed. She towered over him, looming over like a queen, but before Natsume could question her actions, she started to undress. All his words dried in his throat, and he swallowed them deeply. He watched her every move carefully. His expression sobered up. Soon, she stood before him completely unclothed, luminous and wondrous, like a nymph from an ancient tale. Then, she picked up his hoodie that she had just discarded, and to his wonder, she pulled it back on. Only the hoodie. It covered everything, but paradoxically and erotically, her nakedness was absolutely accessible, for the hoodie hung loosely on her body. Mikan, still standing, now stripped Natsume of his clothes. Everything was hanging preciously in the air; they did not speak—they stared at each other silently, breathing deeply, patiently. But Mikan's hands were faintly shaking from anticipation and the very intensity of their mutual pining. Finally, her job was done. Finally, she joined him in his bed.

Softly, she pushed him down on his back. Passively, he complied, all the while looking up at her as if she were his gospel truth. His breathing became laboured. She climbed on top of him, straddling him; then, she pulled his blanket around them. She pressed her body against him. They were completely sheltered.

"I love you,"

"I love you too," He breathed back.

She whispered in his ear, "I'm going to love you so much tonight,"

Then, the true intensity began. It was their most intimate experience yet. As silently as they could, they loved each other fiercely, breathing into each other's mouths, suppressing all their moans and groans in each other's skin.

"Natsume," she breathed, "look at me,"

He did. He was not sure if he could take all this rawness. His heart felt as if it were going to implode and collapse. When everything peaked, the fall imminent, Natsume sealed their mouths together.

They kissed throughout the supernova, and then kissed tenderly in the warm, stilled aftermath.

In silence, they had found passion. In silence, they had found peace.

He was not sure when his dreaming begun, for sleep fell so quietly upon them both.

* * *

 **A/N:** No review replies today my lovelies, as this chapter is long enough. But very quickly, answering **layliaman98** , by 'trophy', I don't mean the association of 'trophy-wife' (or in this case, 'trophy-boyfriend'). More that Natsume is, essentially, at this point, Mikan's dirty secret: no-one from her world knows anything about him. I meant trophy in the sense of something you are proud. So, Mikan is sad that he is her dirty secret when really, she is so proud of him.

The next chapter is also very long! See you!


	7. Family

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Seven: Family**

* * *

Beside him, he felt Mikan move. Fleetingly, blurrily, his eyes opened; he was warm in his bed, and the sun was staining his curtains. Her body left his. She was getting up. Pulling the duvet up to his neck, she tucked him back in, kissing him softly on his forehead.

Peacefully, he fell back asleep.

* * *

Faintly, he could hear Aoi and Mikan's voices coming from the kitchen. They sounded happy. They were laughing together. _What a nice sound_ , he hazily thought.

He nestled deeper into his pillow, content.

* * *

He wasn't sure how much time passed from those brief, drowsy moments. It could have been half an hour, it could have been three minutes.

Mikan, back in his room, holding a tray of food, softly called him awake, "I've got jam toast and tea for you,"

He yawned. Then, he propped himself up, as he rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Good morning to you too, sleepy head," she put the tray down on his desk, so she could kiss him on the top of his head. He saw and smelt that she had already washed and dressed. She was no longer wearing his hoodie, but he could see the sleeve of it poking out from her bag; it was already safely tucked away for her to keep. And she smelt like his shower gel. He was still naked, his bare chest exposed but his lower half covered by his blanket. "It's just past 9," she told him.

He had a seminar meeting with Jinno at 11.30. He had time. He supposed he could loiter here until then. He stretched his legs, thankful that he could have a lazy breakfast with his girlfriend.

Easefully, he grinned, indolent and satisfied, "Last night was fun,"

By his expression, Mikan understood he specifically meant their time in bed. Rather gleefully, she picked up the tray and joined him on his bed. He thanked her.

"It _was_ fun," Mikan concurred loftily; but then, in a more sincere and quiet voice, she confessed, "it was the most fun I've ever had."

"For me too," He bit into the toast. Soon, she was kissing the crumbs off his chin, her hand on his bare chest. She thought he was being very cute, grinning like a little child, pleased with all this loving attention. He thought she was being incredibly charming, spoiling him with kisses.

"So, both dad and Aoi are gone?" He now sipped his tea. Mikan nodded. He knew where his dad was. "Where's Aoi?"

"You just missed her. She's gone to the gym."

He continued to eat. Often, he would look her, remembering the intensity of last night. She was so beautiful; sitting there in his bed, making sure that the tray was stable. He treasured this simplicity.

"Hey, Natsume…"

"Mm?"

She moved, so she faced him; she crossed her legs and looked directly at his face. She looked determined and optimistic. "I was thinking… what would you say if I told you that I want to pay for your sister's education?"

Natsume froze.

The simple times were over.

"… What?"

She ploughed on, leaning in, " _And_ what's remaining of your PhD? I know that Tokyo University is funding 80% of your research, but what if I paid for the remaining 20% as well? This way, you won't have to worry about making money for you and your sister's educations. You can give up some of your jobs. You'd have more time to study, more time for your research."

He put his breakfast down. He then moved the tray off his bed, onto the floor. He then exhaled rather deeply. "Did… did Aoi ask you of this? Did she ask you to pay for us—"

Mortified by his assumptions, Mikan quickly exclaimed, "No, never!"

Natsume sighed quietly in relief. If his sister had done such a thing, he would have been furious and deeply, _deeply_ embarrassed. He wouldn't have been able to look Mikan in the eye if his little sister had all but begged her brother's rich girlfriend for money. His heart race steadied slightly—no longer terrified, he now realised that Aoi would never do such a thing. He knew she was much better than that. He felt sorry that he had even thought the worst of his sister.

But that meant…

"This is all my idea," Mikan said, confirming Natsume's dread (his heart sank), "Aoi told me how hard you work and how much you do for your family, and I thought I could lend a hand—"

"No." His response was firm. "The answer is no. For both Aoi and me."

Mikan frowned. Her previous optimism was gone, yet her determination remained. She couldn't believe Natsume was turning down this suggestion, so quickly without proper consideration.

"Why?" She questioned, her eyes beseeching, "I thought—"

"Mikan, I'm your boyfriend, not your charity case. You're my girlfriend, not my financial sponsor. I'm not dating you so you can hand me the easy life on a platter—"

Affronted, Mikan gawked. "I know that!" She cried, interrupting him, aghast. She knew very well that he was the last person to use her for money.

"So, that's that then." Natsume tried to sweep this conversation away. He did not want to delve any deeper than this. But his heart was still racing. This conversation, he knew, was far from over. Just as he had feared yesterday, Mikan now saw him differently. Just as he had feared: now, having seen his situation, she wanted to pull him out of it.

As he expected, Mikan did not let this go. "How can you dismiss this so easily? Natsume, I'm offering—no, I _want_ to pay for you and Aoi-chan—"

"Mikan," he was desperate, his eyes were pleading her to stop. "I don't want your money. I don't need you to pay."

He really did not want to argue with her. He was scared that such argument could have the potential to injure, hurt and divide.

Yet, she finally flared up, her eyes blazing, "Well, what else am I _supposed_ to do with all this money? Buy more clothes? Can't you see that I'll actually be using my money _well_ , for a good cause, if I spent it on you and your sister?"

Her response, to him, reeked with privilege and saviour-complex: he did not miss that self-servicing undertone and her choice of words. This offence could not be overlooked. Finally, he spoke his mind, with honesty and grit, "It's insulting for you to look at our situation and decide that you want to pay our way out of it. That means, no matter what you say, that you are looking down at my lifestyle with pity."

"No," Mikan tried to deny this, but her voice shook very slightly—she had not meant her suggestion to hurt Natsume like this; _never_ , "no, Natsume—"

"This is why I was reluctant to invite you. I feared your pity. I don't want to be pitied. In fact, I don't think I _should_ be pitied. I have a good life. I'm healthy. We may not have much money, but we're fine."

"I worded it all wrong," Mikan backtracked, guilt plain on her face, "I shouldn't have said _cause_ , I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." Then, she said, "But I promise, I swear to you, that I don't see you any differently because of your home. I _swear._ The only difference I see is that your home is drenched in love. Out of all the families that I have met over the course of my whole life, yours is the best. I know that I've only spent an evening with them, but I can say that wholeheartedly. So, it just… _frustrates_ and appals me that you can't grab the best and have the best opportunities just because of money! You deserve it more than anyone I know!"

Natsume was silent. He looked at her, trying to figure her out. She tried her best to steady her shaking breath.

Then, he sighed, resignedly but perceptively, "Aoi told you about MIT, didn't she?"

Mikan held his gaze, but her lip trembled. "Yes," Then, she reached for him—she held his hand. He did not recoil, but he did not reciprocate either. That only made her grip tighten.

"Natsume… if anything, coming here has just made me see my _own_ life differently. It's made me see how privileged I've been, and how ignorant I've been about it. I'm unaware and uninformed. But _please_ … believe me when I say I don't pity you and your family."

Finally, Natsume's fingers held hers back. He nodded, accepting her words. She felt the static atmosphere lift—without missing a beat, she leaned into him, resting her forehead against his naked collarbone. Her heart still thrummed in her chest. She needed to be close to him now; she needed to reassure herself that she did not just lose him.

"I need you to understand," Natsume spoke; Mikan looked up at him immediately, resolved to listen to all he had to say, carefully, "that my sister is going to come out of university, top of her class. _I'm going to see her through it_. Because I want to. Because I _can_. All the hours I spend at work is dedicated to my family. So, please, don't try to take that away from me."

Mikan nodded. "I understand you. I won't take that away from you, I promise."

This time, Natsume pulled Mikan into him. Her arms circled him, clutching his naked back. Needily, her fingers pressed into his skin. She breathed in, then out, deeply against his chest before kissing it. Beneath her lips, his skin was warm.

 _You didn't lose him, you didn't lose him_ , her mind incessantly chanted; she softly kissed to the beat of this mantra.

She felt his chest move as he spoke, "Aoi feels guilt about me not accepting MIT's offer," he explained, "but I've told her time and time again that it's not her fault. It was my own decision, and I didn't decline their offer solely based on finances. I _wanted_ to stay in Tokyo with my family. Aoi doesn't believe me, of course. She doesn't understand that I depend and rely on my family just as much as she does."

Mikan took this all in. He was asking her to believe his words.

"I've never regretted my decision to stay in Tokyo," he told her.

She nodded, believing him. By now, she understood that he was a family-orientated man, who felt more than he ever let on.

"I'm in Tokyo," Mikan quietly said.

He smiled. "Yes. Yes, you are. See? I was meant to be here."

She smiled affectionately at their mutual sentimentality.

A peaceful lull fell.

Then, "What are you doing today?" Natsume gently asked.

She remembered Persona. She replied, "I'm seeing my lawyer in the afternoon."

Natsume didn't have a lawyer. He didn't know if this was a natural, normal thing rich people did on a frequent basis, or whether Mikan seeing her lawyer was something serious. To him, people didn't see lawyers unless something was wrong.

"Is everything okay?"

"I just need to sign some boring contracts," Mikan easily explaining in a shrugging tone. His worry dissipated. She looked up at him. "You're seeing Professor Jinno today, right?"

He nodded. "We're discussing the conference today." She smiled, proud. He continued, "I need to leave here at 11. You can hang around here until the afternoon if you want to."

"Can I?"

"Of course. You can even stay the night again if you want," He remembered that she had come to him yesterday, quietly but desperately seeking refuge.

Mikan considered this. Then, "No, it's alright. My father will be in Singapore tonight."

He took a guess, concerned. "Is that why you wanted to come here?" He cupped her cheeks, "Did something happen? Is everything alright with you and your father?"

"We argued," she said, looking away, "we often do."

This worried him.

"What about?" He regretted asking almost immediately. He could tell her father was a contentious subject and he did not wish to stir trouble or pressure her into a painful corner.

She didn't seem to mind his questioning. But rather evasively, she answered, "About boring contracts,"

He did not understand the significance of this, but he did not press for it.

He was surprised, however, when she continued this discussion, "Nothing is ever alright between my father and me. It's never good." She then glanced at him curiously, tilting her head, "Do you know about him and my mother? Did you ever look them up?"

Natsume shook his head. All he knew of her mother had come out of Mikan's mouth—she had mentioned her cocaine addiction and her negligent behaviour. He also knew that she did not live with her family in Tokyo—Los Angeles and Monaco, Mikan had said, were her places of residence.

Rather sadly, she smiled. "I knew you wouldn't have. You're so loyal to _my_ word." She then launched into the intricacies; she was ready to expose her hurt to him, to reveal the deep, ugly void in her heart.

"My mother was a model in the 80s. She didn't come from money, and to begin with, she was desperate to get into the limelight. She did all sorts of sordid photo-shoots and slept with all sorts of people to attain fame. By 1986, all her efforts came to fruition: she was on the cover of Vogue Japan and reigned as Japan's top model. But by then, she had also garnered a party-girl reputation: she was often seen out and about town at clubs, drunk and wild, arm-in-arm with different rockstars every weekend. In 1988, or '89—I forget which year, probably '88—she was invited to some jewellery company's Christmas party. That's where she met my father. My father liked her looks and my mother liked his money. They hit it off immediately. And quite soon after their introduction, my dad knocked my mother up. Some part of me thinks that she had a role to play in it too. I've heard of and I've seen many women who lie and say that they are on birth control when they're not, just so they can trap a rich unmarried man with a child. I've seen mistresses do that too, to get money from their married partners. My parents have never admitted that their marriage was just a shotgun sham ceremony, but I know that that's exactly what it was. I know that my brother knows this too, though we've never spoken about it. But either way, the following year, my mother was pleased: she was finally obscenely rich, so rich that she could hire ten nannies for my brother. From then onwards, she did her best to eradicate her wild past: dutifully, she played the role of the wife in the public, dressing and acting classy. But soon, all the novelty of marriage and money wore off and my mother was confronted with the horrible truth that she was married to a monster. You see—my father has lived a life where no-one's ever said 'no' to him. He expects to have everything and _anyone_ he wants. From the earliest days of their marriage, my father has been unfaithful to my mother. He has mistresses all over the world; everywhere he goes, escorts and courtesans are at his beck and call. He's never loved my mother; he never cared for her, but he expected complete obedience and submission from her. My mother filled the loneliness with drugs. By the time I was born, my mother was an alcoholic and a drug addict. She was quietly hospitalized many times. My father's response was always to beat her, as a form of discipline. When I was four, I saw my mother throw a glass vase at him, in retaliation. It smashed against the floor and I cut my feet. I remember Jii-chan patched me up. All my earliest memories are of their violent fights."

Natsume was horrified and incredibly distressed to hear all of this. And yet, he did his best to keep a straight face: he needed to be resilient for Mikan.

"By '98, things were utterly in ruins. My mother's tipping point was when she found my father's eighteen-year-old mistress in our house, in her room, trying on her clothes. I still remember that day. As an act of revenge, my mother then went to the tabloids herself and leaked the story. She spilt all the sordid details, listing all of my father's mistresses; some of them were the wives of other businessmen. The story broke and completely shook the headlines; it was pandemonium. Then, someone went to the press about my mother's drug habit—someone, most likely, from the hospital, capitalising on this sudden explosive interest towards my family. A total media circus ensued: paparazzi stood outside our house for _weeks_. My mother left for Los Angeles later that year. She hasn't returned to the house since."

Mikan continued, "And you know what the craziest thing is? They're still married!" She shook her head, and then, rather derisively she said, "When I was younger, more stupid, more naïve, I believed that they never got a divorce because, deep down, they actually loved each other. Then, at 11, I realised they were still together because of _money_ and _reputation_. Those are the only two things that have ever mattered to them. Divorces are expensive, and my father would rather not attract any more negative attention to our family. He would not want such publicity to affect his business. This, of course, agrees with my mother who still has access to my father's money, so long as she is married to him."

He couldn't believe that she was thrown headfirst into the festering ugliness of adulthood so early on. He couldn't believe that she grew up, seeing the things that she saw.

"I-I think," she was choking up; tears were finally collecting in her eyes, "the saddest thing for me is that as a child _and_ as a teenager, I blamed my father for driving my mother away. I _hated_ him. I always believed that if it weren't for him, my mother would be here for me, _with_ me. She hardly ever called or spoke to me, and I only saw her once a year, but I felt I had an _allegiance_ with her: the two of us resented my father, and these feelings, to me, bonded us together. I thought that made me her ally. Not to mention, people always said I looked like her: I felt that we were the same. I thought, 'it's fine that my brother and father don't care for me; my mother does'. When I came of age, I decided to change my surname to my mother's maiden name. It infuriated my father. I was so happy that it did. But when I told my mother, she did not seem impressed or pleased in the slightest. She didn't care. _That_ broke me. That's when I realised that my parents are just as bad as each other and that me pining after my mother was a wishful dream. I had mistaken my mother's hatred towards my father as love for me. I was trying to fill the void of a bad parent with another neglectful parent. My father may have driven her away, but at the end of the day, my mother never came back for me, or for my brother. She never asked us to come live with her. She abandoned us, leaving us to a man who she knew to be a monster."

Like a child, Mikan sobbed, anguished. Speaking about it unstitched the stitches and reopened the deep, gushing wounds she had previously tried so hard to forget about. She remembered all the pains of her lonely, wretched childhood, totally vile and overwhelming miserable. She could hear the screams from the 90s, the psychotic arguments, the slamming, the smacking, the shrieking, the shattering… and then, the excruciating silence from the 00s, where no one spoke, comforted or loved in her house.

Natsume gathered her in his blanketed lap; instinctively, she held his neck. He pulled her in and let her cry against him. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry to hear this," he whispered, his voice strong, "I'm so sorry, Mikan…" He felt helpless. He didn't know the right words to say; he didn't know what the right thing to do was. "I'm sorry that you still carry all this with you. Your family's wrong to treat you so. Their actions are brutal and heartless. You've done nothing wrong, you did nothing wrong."

When Natsume said that, she believed him. She cried harder. He didn't move; he stayed to comfort her through her past traumas.

"With me, you never need to pretend everything is alright when it's not,"

She whimpered and then nodded. "Okay," she promised, her voice waterlogged, and then she confessed, "I've been crying a lot recently, thinking about my father."

He was glad she confided this to him. "I'd rather you cry close by me than cry alone,"

She nodded. Her past was becoming dim in her mind. It was fading away, tuning out. Natsume's comforting voice replaced it.

She ejected the last stinging thought that plagued her mind: "I wish I had a different family,"

Natsume kissed her forehead again. Then, in a tender voice, with a loving smile, he said, "They won't always be your family. One day, you'll have a different family. We'll have our own family."

He had managed to transform her last, biting retort into something beautiful, into a wondrous possibility. She pulled away from his bare chest and looked up at his gentle expression that promised her a future.

"Y-You mean—"

He cupped her face to kiss her briefly on her lip. "Yes; one day, you'll be part of my family. Then, we'll make a new family together."

Perhaps to many, his words may seem insane, thoughtless and dangerously impulsive. They had, after all, only met in January. And now, six months later, he was talking about _family_ , insinuating that one day they would be married with children? Insane! Rash! Reckless!

But Natsume meant what he said. He didn't care for the duration of their relationship. Besides, if his research had taught him anything, the human concept of linear time was an illusion anyway. All he knew was that he wanted to marry Mikan eventually, be it now or in ten years time. He loved her; the feelings he had for her were the strongest things he had ever felt, transcending everything else in this world, even time.

And what mattered was, she thought so too.

"I'll be Mikan Hyuuga?" Her voice was faint in disbelief; she was terrified that she had misunderstood his words—

"If you want," so simply, he offered her his name and heart. In response, her heart burst, like gold confetti, rejoiced.

It wasn't a proposal, but it was the promise of a proposal. It was the best thing she had ever received.

Fiercely, she kissed his cheek. "Yes, please," she accepted both his name and heart—it was the easiest thing she had ever agreed to.

"One day, I'll ask you properly. With a ring," then he smirked, "and with clothes on."

Mikan laughed; her chuckle still held a watery residue, but it came straight from her heart. She kissed his naked collarbone lovingly.

They spent the rest of the morning with soft musings and caresses. When the clock showed 10:30, Natsume finally got out of bed, intent on taking a shower. When he was done, he dressed and joined her in the main room. He found her by the fridge, taking photos of his baby pictures on her phone.

"I couldn't resist!" She laughed. "I just love them too much!" Then, she suggested, "We should take more photos together,"

She said this very cutely.

She was so cute.

To him, she was the cutest.

"Yes, we should," Natsume agreed.

* * *

Later that day, Mikan got a taxi to Persona's office. As she sat in the taxi, she unlocked her phone. She shifted through her photos. She found the photo of Six-Year-Old Natsume, with his two front missing, with that sweet, pure grin. She selected it, setting it as her phone's wallpaper. Now, every time she unlocked her phone, his smug smile looked up at her.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know I said that this chapter would also be very long, but after re-reading it I decided to split it up. Here just seems like a better place to end the chapter.

 **I won't be updating tomorrow, on Sunday.** So, see you all on Monday! Thanks for all the reviews; I love reading them!

 **Review replies to Chap 6:  
Anilissa**: I'm so glad this perked you up. I hope you are feeling much better and happier now (if not, don't worry, you'll get on your feet very soon, I'm sure of it!). Well, I've really enjoyed writing this story! Thanks for your kind words.  
 **Ayaaa** : Thank you so much for your review. It was an absolute pleasure to read. Well done for finishing college and paying everything back! That's amazing. I'm still buried in student debt, lol. And about your friend who, as you say, 'idiotically fantasies about the life of celebs' – I will definitely be addressing that more in an upcoming chapter. I confess that I have an aversion towards celebrity worship and this cultural obsession with their lives, so those opinions will crop up now and then. I don't have anything against the celebrities themselves: it's just the constant buzz, focus and dissection of their lives that makes me think 'just why'. Of course, we're allowed to whine and have a little moan about our lives. But comparing our lives to another's is pointless: much healthier and happier to focus on your own, I think! And that's so sweet – I'm pretty certain writing is not in my future, but it certainly makes me happy. I write for myself :)  
 **layliaman98** : Did you drown in the love? Sounds like I gave you butterflies in the tummy, haha. I think that Chap 6 is the best chapter too, out of the ones you've seen and the upcoming ones. Thanks for your review!  
 **Cassie Sharpie** : I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter so much! I loved writing Aoi too, haha. She's based on my friend's little sister, who is obsessed with all things on social media. Well, I clarified Natsume's financial situation a bit more here. What did you think about his reaction to Mikan's offer? Thanks for your review :)  
 **Flaming Milcute** : You will fall in love one day! It's a long life, you're bound to bounce off wonderful people along the way. Thanks for the review!  
 **Dreaming Reverie** : Thanks so much for your review! It was really heartfelt; I was touched. As to everything you told me about yourself—I'll PM you. :)


	8. Speak Freely

**A/N** : I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Eight: Speak Freely**

* * *

Sumire and Hotaru were at Mikan's house. All together, they were getting ready for an event at the Palace Hotel. A prestigious chef was giving a speech and presenting a sample menu; the guests were allowed to pick and try anything she offered. The chef was also selling certain selected produces to the guests. It was not _exactly_ the most exclusive event, but for once, they were going because they wanted to go—especially Hotaru. She had heard rumours about Chef Anna Umenomiya's delicious crab dishes. Sumire thought it would look good for them to attend an event that celebrated a woman: "Feminism is really in now!" she had airly declared.

Mikan, like Hotaru, wanted to purchase crabs. When she was at Natsume's last week, cooking with Aoi, Aoi had told her that Natsume liked crab croquettes. She was going to his again tonight; she was determined to make them with Aoi before he got home, to surprise him, and to then feed his whole family.

As it was an afternoon event, the three did not require their respective stylists. Listening to the radio, they all applied their own make-up.

"How are we doing for time?" Hotaru asked.

Mikan who was carefully doing her eyeliner passed the question on. "Sumire?"

Sumire pursed her lips as she regarded herself in Mikan's large full-length mirror. She was pleased with today's look. Rather distractedly, she answered, "Hmm? What was that?"

"I asked for the time," Hotaru repeated.

"Oh," Sumire looked around, in search of her phone, "… where did I put that damn thing…" Instead, she found Mikan's sitting on her pillow. Her manicured finger pressed the home button. She saw it was 11:01. But she also saw a smiling young child, with his two front teeth missing.

"Mikan!" Sumire cried, holding up Mikan's phone, her jaw agape, "Who is this child?!"

Mikan, who was done with her eyeliner, turned around to face Sumire. Her heart thumped loudly as she saw Sumire holding Natsume's smiling face.

Hotaru knew about Natsume. But she had only told Hotaru about him to discuss certain legalities before she went with her to Persona's office that day. They had not spoken about him since. Sumire, on the other hand, did not even know Mikan had been in a relationship these past seven months.

It wasn't that Mikan didn't like Sumire. Sure, they weren't the best of friends, but Mikan enjoyed Sumire's company and liked her light approach to everything. That wasn't the issue. It was just that Sumire Shouda was a notorious gossip. Mikan knew she never gossiped out of malice—it was just that Sumire _loved_ drama; she loved to stir the pot, she thrived when she stood at the centre of a whirlwind. Unlike Hotaru, her lips were loose.

"Did you adopt some kid?!" Sumire demanded, looking at Mikan's phone again.

Despite the situation, Mikan couldn't help but laugh at Sumire's absurd guess. "No, silly—"

"Who is it?" She then gasped, before frantically speculating, "Oh my God, no way—does your brother have a secret love-child?! Is this your nephew—"

"No, Sumire, _no_."

Mikan stood up, dispelling such assumptions. This conjecture, unlike the other, was not funny; it was dangerous. Her brother would destroy her if such a rumour spread about him on the account of this photo.

She retrieved her phone from Sumire. Sumire's look of pure curiosity did not quench. She looked rabid for information; her large green eyes were urging her to talk. Mikan internally debated whether she should tell her the truth or not.

"So?" Hotaru distracted them impatiently, "The time?"

"Oh—11:01," Sumire replied quickly and flippantly; her focus was still on Mikan. She clearly wanted an answer.

Mikan gave in. After all, Natsume was her future. She was planning to have a family with him one day. Sooner or later, Sumire would find out about them, about Natsume. Mikan would prefer it if Sumire found out from her today rather than from other sources another day.

"It's my boyfriend," Mikan revealed, pressing the home button so she could admire the photo for support, "when he was a child."

Sumire shrieked, "You have a boyfriend?!" She positively jumped up and down from pure excitement, "Why didn't you tell me? Naughty, naughty!"

Away, still seated, Hotaru rolled her eyes. Sumire's high-pitch, she was sure, could be heard by dogs residing in Yokohama.

"So, who is he?" Sumire continued her squealing, her eyes round with anticipation and excitement. She then remembered the child's black hair. She gasped dramatically; her speculating mind was whirring madly, "No… it isn't _Tsubasa_ is it—"

" _No,_ " Mikan firmly said, scowling ever so slightly. She hated hearing that name—it always shamefully reminded her of her past, manacling her; his name always caged away her future too. She resolutely shunned Tsubasa Andou from her mind.

"Who then!" Sumire begged.

"Um," Mikan pressed her lips together rather shyly, "I don't suppose you remember Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome? I think that's what you named him? He—"

"—brought your purse back!" Sumire finished, gasping in recognition and realization. "I would never forget a face like that! _Him?_ He's your boyfriend? That's a photo of him as a child?"

Mikan nodded proudly, smiling.

"Show me, show me, show me again!" Sumire's grabby hands opened.

Mikan gave her phone to her. Sumire inspected Six Year Old Natsume, softly cooing. Finally, she squawked in pure jubilation and looked up at Mikan with a wide grin on her face. She returned her phone back.

"How _wonderful!_ " Sumire declared, clapping her hands. "So, who is he? Why don't I know him? More like, why haven't I heard about this relationship?!"

"He's a PhD student. He's a regular guy," Mikan said, "no one we know knows him."

And just like that, Sumire's exhilaration faded. Now, she just looked confused. "Oh? … What about his parents?"

Mikan shook her head.

This was not what Sumire had been imagining at all. She had been expecting Mikan to say that Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome was the son of some billionaire CEO. Even an aspiring DJ would have been better than a PhD student with unknown parents.

Mikan laughed at Sumire's changed expression. "Don't worry Sumire," she teased, "I'm the one dating him, not you. There's no need for you to look so disappointed."

"I… I mean, _he's cute_ , sure…" She rather weakly offered.

"He makes me very happy," Mikan informed her, smiling kindly. "That's all you need to know, really."

Sumire churned this new information in her head. Mikan Sakura was dating a regular guy. She supposed that, to an extent, this _was_ exciting news. Granted, it would be more thrilling and electrifying if Mikan Sakura was dating someone as famous as her, but surely there was something in this story too? Surely this was the story of a princess dating a pauper? Poor people liked those tales, right? And rich people liked to raise their eyebrows at unconventional couples such as these, right?

"Shouda," Hotaru called; she was now facing them, her expression stony. She lucidly cautioned, "I know what you're thinking in that head of yours and I'll say this: don't you dare spread this."

Sumire huffed, offended that she was caught so easily. Her cheeks went slightly pink. "I-I wasn't going to—"

Mikan clutched Sumire's hands. " _Please_ , Sumire. We're not ready for the world yet."

Both of Sumire's perfectly waxed eyebrows shot up. "Ready for the world?! …Mikan, you're planning to go _public_ with him?"

"Not yet. But someday, _yes_." Mikan's voice was clear as her implied intention.

Okay, _this_ was big news. This wasn't just some fling. Mikan was serious about him. "Oh my GOD—"

"Not a _word_ , Shouda." Hotaru glared at her, silencing her, bidding her swear to secrecy. "If this leaks, we'll know that the source was you. We're the only ones who know. You know what I'll do if you tell anyone about this. I won't forget if you upset Mikan."

Mikan was somewhat touched by Hotaru's protectiveness and loyalty.

"Jeez," Sumire put her hands up defensively, "I won't tell anyone, alright?"

"Promise?" Mikan probed, her eyes pleading.

Towards Mikan, Sumire's expression and tone were kind. "I _promise_."

Mikan, after all, had helped Sumire through her terrible cocaine stints. She owed Mikan this. She still needed to prove herself to be a good, trustworthy friend to her.

"So? What's he like?"

Mikan was surprised to hear this question. Hotaru, after all, had never asked her such things. She had expected Sumire to be the same. She was not expecting Sumire to be interested.

"He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sumire laughed. Jovially, she declared, "Well, I guess it's a good thing I brought him to you that night,"

Mikan laughed with her.

"Best thing to ever happen to you, huh?" Sumire pondered over this statement. "What's his name?"

Her heart swelled. She was ready to say his name. "His name is Natsume and he's perfect. He's so caring and _kind_ , and _good_ and smart—I'm always in awe—" her words were gushing; finally, she was displaying her trophy and she couldn't contain her eagerness and happiness: "I just want to be with him, _always_ and—"

"—he makes you incoherent," Hotaru commented, sniggering, her tone playful.

Mikan laughed. Hotaru smiled in response. " _Yes_ , that too."

"Well," Sumire decided, "he sounds better than all the losers I know. Did I tell you what that ass Sakurano said to me the other day—"

Sumire's story was cut short when Hotaru realized the time. They all rushed downstairs. Their pick-up car had been waiting for ten minutes. They all clambered in, apologizing.

As Mikan glanced from her friends to outside the car window, she mused how good it had felt to converse so freely with Hotaru and Sumire. It was like they were children again. She realized that she hadn't been honest with them these past few years—perhaps that was where the problem was: she had been so caught up in the deceit of her own family that, at some point during teenagehood, she had stopped trusting Hotaru and Sumire. Her own anxiety and wariness had convinced her that eventually they too would stab her in the back. Since then, she had kept them at a distance. In the car, she realized that her actions and distrust had created an invisible, reticent wall between them all.

Now, she wanted to break it.

She decided then and there to be more open with them. She decided to have more faith their friendships, and give them the credit that was due. After all, after all these years, they had never abandoned her.

Perhaps she could make 'Sumikan' a reality. Perhaps, if she put the effort in, she'd be able to call Hotaru her best friend again, just like when they were children.

Perhaps sooner rather than later, she would introduce Natsume to her two friends. She knew all of Natsume's friends; she liked them all, and she was confident that they held her in high regard too. Perhaps it was time for her friends to get to know Natsume.

Sumire, once again, gasped. Hotaru looked at her. Sumire's beady green eyes now rested on Mikan's neck.

"'Oh, I get it! 'N' for Natsume! Of course!" She cried in understanding, clapping her hands together.

Mikan felt her gaze resting on necklace; her fingers touched it, playing with the dangling letter.

Hotaru, who had not noticed this necklace until now, inspected it. Immediately, she raised her eyebrows, "Could you be any more sappy? Does he have an 'M' around his neck too?" She teased.

"Ha-ha, Hotaru," Mikan rolled her eyes playfully.

"No, I'm being serious," Hotaru continued mercilessly, smirking.

"I always thought _yours_ was an 'M'," Sumire said, still surprised, squinting at the necklace, confirming that it was indeed an 'N', "my eyes totally played a trick on me,"

"I think it's natural for people to see what they expect," Mikan sagely supposed.

Sumire smiled. "It's nice," she was being genuine, "it looks good on you."

Mikan's cheeks warmed. "Thank you,"

Sumire then frowned. "But you've been wearing that necklace for quite some time now…" She gasped again in realization, "Wait, how _long_ have you been dating him for? Isn't it a recent thing?"

"Define 'recent'…"

"Mikan!" Sumire gaped. "Tell me, tell me!"

Hotaru and Mikan both laughed at Sumire's frantic antics.

She had a good afternoon.

* * *

Her crab croquettes went down very well that evening. The Hyuugas thanked her warmly for the meal.

She was so pleased.

When they finally got into his bed, Natsume remarked, "I love seeing you like this,"

She was positively glowing.

"I had a good day today," Mikan informed him. They had not spoken privately yet. Up until now, they both had spent time together with Natsume's family in the living room. Finally, in the comfort of his arms, she told him about her day with Hotaru and Sumire.

"That's great," Natsume encouragingly said, smiling at her. She had also expressed her wish for Natsume to meet her two friends one day. "And of course I'll meet them. Just say when and where."

"Really?"

"They can't be any worse than Koko and Mochu," he sniggered fondly.

Mikan laughed.

* * *

 **A/N** : Short chapter, but tomorrow will be a long chapter!

 **Lilia** : Thanks for your kind review. Yup; I always joke about being filthy rich one day and just jetting off here, there and everywhere, but my reality actually consists of me being squished and squashed on a bus, budgeting and praying some rich person just hands me money, lol. Hope that 'one day' comes soon… And as for Natsume and Mikan, they will overcome all the obstacles, I will promise that :)  
 **Flaming Milcute** : Yes; Mikan's meetings with Persona will be revealed in the future. Any ideas on what Mikan is doing with Persona? Thanks for the review!  
 **layliaman98** : Awh, glad you like it so much! This chapter isn't as exciting, but the pace will pick up again in the next chapter! As always, thanks for your kind words.  
 **Trigunskitty** : I do think it's a nice feeling when you find someone you can be yourself with, be that a boyfriend, girlfriend or a friend. And as to your assumptions… they are very good assumptions, haha. I won't say any more. Thanks for the review!  
 **Xiiaoiceangel** : Glad you're enjoying it so far. And as to your question – very true. I guess Mikan's so used to throwing money at her problems that to her, paying for his fees, seeing like a logical thing to do. I think if Natsume accepted it, Mikan would be happy to think she's helping someone she really cares for, but because he didn't, this experience actually turned into a lesson for her? If that makes sense? I should be more sure considering I wrote it… hehe, thanks for the review!


	9. Home

**A/N** : I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Nine: Home**

* * *

Autumn came.

Mikan had just got the call. _It_ was finally ready. _It_ was finally finished, according to all her requirements.

It was finally time.

Mikan breathed deeply. She knew Natsume would be in the office by now. She called him.

" _Hello,"_ his rich, deep voice opened the line, _"all good?"_

"Yes..."

" _Do you miss me? Is that why you called?"_ He teased; in her mind, she saw that smirk of his.

"I…," she swallowed; then, finally she took the plunge and revealed, "I've decided to move out from my house."

He did not expect to hear that. They had eaten dinner together last night, and she had not mentioned this to him. This decision, to him, felt very abrupt.

" _What? Where will you go?"_ he questioned.

"I actually bought a place." She informed him. "I'm going to move there. It's right by Yoyogi Park. On the quiet side."

He was glad that she was not moving far away.

" _That's great,"_ he said encouragingly.

"You think so?"

" _Of course. I think it's time you left your house."_

"Yes," she agreed, pleased with his reaction, "it is time."

" _What about Jii-chan?"_

"He won't be joining me," she regretfully said. "He'll stay at the house."

" _I'm sorry. I know what he means to you. That's a shame."_

"We can always visit him," Mikan said.

" _We will,"_

"Even better, we can invite him to Yoyogi!"

" _I'm sure he'll be happy if you did. So, when are you moving?"_

"Today," she affirmed.

" _What?! … How did you get the keys so quickly—"_

"I… I actually decided this a while back." She didn't want to go into this now though; she pulled the conversation back, and asked the question that she had been meaning to ask from the beginning, "I was wondering… could you come with me? Could you drive me there? I need to move my things in."

" _Of course_ ," Natsume easily agreed. _"I'll bring dad's car."_ He knew that Mikan knew of his dad's van-like car: his dad needed the big space for his larger canvases. _"I can be at yours by six. Or is that too late? I can ask Jinno let me go earlier—"_

"No, six is fine. That's perfect," Mikan said, smiling brightly.

" _I'll call you when I'm leaving mine,"_

"Natsume," she called; he waited patiently for her to say what he wanted to say: "Why don't you bring some of your stuff too? That way you can stay over whenever."

" _I'll do that,"_ He approved.

"Great! I'll see you at six! I can't wait!"

* * *

At 5:30p.m., Natsume was packing a small suitcase. He had already gathered the clothing essentials. He had also packed one of his mugs, an unopened can of shaving foam and a spare razor too. Now, he was ransacking through the cupboard in the bathroom, on a dig to locate an unopened, clean toothbrush.

Aoi popped her head out of her room. Her brother's rifling could be heard from her room. Curiously, she walked over and peered into the bathroom.

"What are you looking for?"

"Do we have any spare toothbrushes?" He asked.

"Yes," Aoi said, then, she commanded, "Move—I'll find it."

Like magic, in three seconds flat, she produced new toothbrush, sheathed in plastic. He took it from her, thanking her. He then moved back to his room. Still curious, she followed him there.

Inquisitively, she stared at the suitcase that was laid open on his floor.

"Are you going on a trip?"

"Hm?" he was distracted; but soon, he looked up at his sister and explained, "No; Mikan's moving—"

Aoi gasped. "You're moving in with Mikan? Natsume, you ass, why didn't you say—"

"What? No," he curbed her excitement; "I'm just bringing a few things to her new place."

"So you can sleepover easy?"

He nodded. He continued his packing. Aoi watched him carefully. Then, sighing, she sat down on his bed—that made him look back up at her.

"What?" he asked, confused by her enigmatic expression.

She pursed her lips. Then, finally, in a sympathetic voice, she said, "Natsume, if she's asked you to move in with her, you can say yes, you know. You _should_ say yes." Her tone was very thoughtful and caring, "You don't always need to think of dad and me. We can manage without you. You can go live with her."

Whilst he was touched by her considerate words and sentiments, he shook his head. He clarified, "It's not like that. She didn't ask me to move in,"

Now, Aoi shook her head. Her brother, whilst very intelligent, could sometimes miss the little signs. "I think it's _exactly_ like that. Natsume, I know that I'm your silly little sister, but sometimes I see things you don't. And, I don't know if you've realised this already, but Mikan loves you more than you love her." She considered his dubiously raised eyebrows and appropriately amended, "Okay, fine, maybe not _love._ Maybe you love each other as much equally. But I'm absolutely certain that she needs you more than you need her."

 _Impossible_ , Natsume quickly dismissed his sister's words.

* * *

Together, with Jii-chan watching over them warmly, they placed her boxes in the back of his father's car. Everything fit in easily; he was surprised at her five boxes, as he was expecting many more. Granted, they were very big boxes, but he had still expected more.

"I just took what I needed," she easily explained, shrugging.

Then, she turned to say her goodbye to Jii-chan. She pulled him into a hug. She promised to visit, and she made him promise to come visit her. She told him that she loved him. He returned the sentiment and told her how proud he had always been of her.

To Natsume's surprise, Jii-chan then pulled Natsume into a hug. Beside them, Mikan laughed blissfully.

"You're a good man, Natsume," Jii-chan said, patting him rather strongly on the back, "A good man."

"That's kind of you to say,"

"You take care of her, you hear me? You help her cook and clean, you hear me?"

"I hear you, Jii-chan," he promised.

Ten minutes later, they were finally buckled in. Mikan rolled down the windows and waved at Jii-chan as Natsume pulled the car into motion. She waved until Natsume turned left, until she couldn't see her beloved Jii-chan anymore.

"You'll see him soon," Natsume assured her.

"I will," she said, nodding. She looked at Natsume: she felt relief flood her heart.

"So, where am I going? What's the address?"

Mikan told him, and then informed him that she would give him the necessary directions.

So, they prove peacefully, Mikan telling him where to take them.

Soon, they arrived at a quiet road. She told him where to park. Natsume looked outside his and Mikan's window, impressed. "You weren't exaggerating when you said it's right by the park,"

Mikan nodded, "It overlooks Yoyogi Park."

Now looking at the white period house, he commented, "It's _huge!_ "

It looked very pretty. He liked the big windows. It looked wonderfully picturesque. It suited her.

But Mikan shook her head, "No, it's not really—you see, it looks like a house, but this building is actually compromised of flats."

He was surprised. "You bought a flat?"

She nodded. "On the top floor," she grinned.

"Of course," he smiled back. "Right, let's bring everything in."

She nodded enthusiastically. They both unbuckled.

* * *

They decided to carry all the boxes up first, leaving them one by one outside the door of her flat. Once her boxes and his small suitcase were all gathered, Mikan fished her new house keys from her bag. She held his gaze, smiling, as she opened the door to her new home.

He pushed all the boxes in. Once done, he exhaled, before he took the time to look around. At once, he was both awed and surprised.

"Shoes on or off?" He asked her.

"Oh! Um," she hadn't considered this. She thought of the Hyuuga abode. "Off!" She decided once and for all. They both slipped their shoes off.

A beautiful open-plan kitchen lay before them. Just like his home, the kitchen, dining and living room all overlooked one another. It was tastefully designed: the colours were all to his taste, and he liked the minimalism. It was so different to her own house: perhaps, he now reflected, that was purposeful.

She nervously looked at him. She bit her lip, unsure. "Well? What do you think?"

"It's great," he marvelled, beaming at her, taking her hand, "you chose well."

Her nerves dissipated. Invigorated by his support, she took his other hand and pulled him, "Come! There's more,"

She showed him the bathroom. He approved, especially of the bathtub.

Giggling more, she now pulled him into the bedroom. A large bed (already made), a mirror, and a built-in wardrobe stretched across the walls. It also had a small ensuite bathroom, one with a shower. Once again, he voiced his approval.

But he was definitely surprised. His surprise chiefly came from the size of her new flat. He had just assumed that she would have bought herself a bigger place than this, one with many guest rooms and three living rooms. _He_ liked the size of it, of course; to him, it was perfect.

"I've saved the best for last," she then informed, pulling him.

He followed her, "What could possibly be better than the bedroom?"

She brought him to the last unopened door. "It's the study," she announced, as she pushed the door opened.

He stepped in. His lips parted.

This room, the study, was facing Yoyogi Park. From up here, through those big windows, he could see the park. Granted, evening was settling, but he could still see the outlines of the trees. He could only imagine how beautiful this room must be during the day, the windows opening the view into the park, with the natural light coming brilliantly through.

Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. Suddenly, he understood.

His sister had been right.

Memories of their past conversation flooded his mind…

" _I like flats. Less cleaning involved."_ He had once told her… _"I'd like to live near a park. I would like my study to have a good view."_

He turned to look at her. His heart was racing. Her giggling was gone. Now, once again, she looked nervous. She bit her lip. She cleared her throat, and averted her eyes to the windows. Her behaviour all but confirmed to him what he now knew to be true: she had bought this flat with the intention to live here with him. This study was his.

Then, she pointed towards the bookshelf. Casually, forcibly so, she said, "You can bring your books here. You know I only read Jane Austen, and that's like… what? Six books? … Without your contribution, it'll be an awfully empty bookshelf."

He looked at the bookshelf. He felt she had taken into consideration how many books he owned. Here, on this bookshelf, he was certain all his books would finally all have a place, a home.

She still looked nervous; just like that night he had met her. Her vulnerability was showing. She feared that Natsume would turn their new home down.

Natsume gently pulled her into his embrace. He hugged her and kissed her on the top of her head. "I love it," he assured her, his voice brimmed with thankfulness and love.

She looked up at him. "You do?"

He nodded, pushing her hair behind her ears lovingly. "I do. All of it," He leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back. Then, his lips against her lips, he murmured, "I won't lose you in here,"

"Never,"

* * *

They returned towards the open-plan kitchen, intent on unpacking; as they did, Mikan pointed at the walls. "I was thinking, we could put photos up here! Framed pictures of us,"

He nodded, agreeing, enjoying her childlike enthusiasm.

"We can put photos on the fridge too!" She piped up, excited by all these homey prospects.

Natsume opened the drawers in the kitchen. They were all empty. No plates, no pots or pans.

"I was… well," she was bashful once more. She did not want to come across as forceful. She never wanted him to feel like he was obligated to stay and live here with her. "… On Sunday, do you want to go get some houseware with me?"

"We'll go tomorrow," Natsume amended, smiling. "We can't wait until Sunday. Jinno's grandson is in town. I'm sure he won't mind if I take the day off tomorrow."

"Really? Are you sure?"

He nodded, closing the drawers. His mind roughly mapped the plate sizes best suited for the storage space. "Of course. The car's here; it makes sense to go tomorrow. We can even swing by a supermarket and get some food too; and cleaning equipment. Oh, and a drying rack for the clothes."

She nodded early at all his suggestions, her heart pounding in this domestic bliss.

Mikan had not explicitly asked Natsume to move in with her, but her intentions were crystal clear. He could tell that she was reluctant to ask him outright; he knew her well enough to know that she wanted _him_ to say so, to accept his place here. It was her unsaid plea. Perhaps it was because she was scared of his rejection. Perhaps it was because she wanted him to make this choice. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

Natsume now responded to her unsaid request, with a gentle smile, "After we buy all that, we can swing over to my dad's," he suggested, "I'll pack the rest of my things and bring them here."

She understood the implication of his words. "You will?"

He nodded. "I won't forget my books."

Mikan beamed. "I'll help you pack your things!"

Then, she darted off to find her handbag. She returned back to him, holding a brown paper envelope. On the front of the envelope, Mikan had written down the address of their new home. She gave it to him. He opened it and found a set of keys.

"They're, well, keys."

He laughed. "I can see that, Mikan."

"For here," she clarified.

"I assumed so," he teased.

She pushed him jestingly. Then, she suggested, her expression tentative, "I was hoping you could come back here."

"What if I came back here every night? Would that be okay?"

Mikan sighed in relief. He understood her. He was moving in with her. This was really happening.

Relieved and incredibly happy, Mikan declared, "That would be more than okay,"

This was really happening! They were going to live together!

Natsume popped the keys back in the envelope and left it on the counter. He would attach it to his keychain later. Natsume walked over to the couch and sat down. The material was very soft, yielding to his weight.

He turned around and asked, "Shall we order pizza?"

"Yes!" Mikan agreed, jumping excitably on the couch, right next to him. She was being so cute. Indulgingly, he smiled down at her.

"We can have a t.v. dinner!" She decided. He agreed. Then, she smiled coyly at him, leaning in to murmur, " _Then_ we can break-in this couch,"

He raised an eyebrow. He liked what she was thinking, but he couldn't help but point out, "It's new; what if we ruin it?"

"We _wooon't_ ," Mikan's naughty pout contradicted her words, and then, she tugged on his collar to pull him down to her.

She was in the mood for him. He wanted her too. "We need to christen the bed tonight too," Natsume added, "it's bad luck if we don't."

Mikan's sultry expression lifted, and now she looked concerned. "It is?!—Well, let's go do it now—"

She slipped from under his arms and stood up, then grabbed his hand. She made to move but he firmly remained seated, so they did not budge an inch; she looked back at him. His eyes were crinkled in mirth, that age-old smirk toying on his face.

She groaned, shaking her head, disbelieving of her own naivety. "You were kidding," she understood, smiling, her free hand covering her forehead. She couldn't believe she fell for that pseudo-tradition.

He stood up, and muttered in her ear, "We'll do it anyway." He kissed the shell of her ear, making her squeal.

Then, after admiring that coquettish smile of hers, he said, "Let's get some shit done first."

Natsume ordered the pizza as Mikan started to unpack the box labelled 'Toiletries'. Darting to and fro with bottles of shampoo and sweet-smelling soaps, Mikan organized their bathroom. All that was missing now was Natsume's things. She returned to the open-plan kitchen; Natsume had finished ordering both pizzas, and he was now holding his suitcase. He was going to unpack the very few things he had brought in their bedroom. Mikan made to move towards her box labelled 'Bedroom and clothes'.

"I got it," Natsume gallantly offered; with his strong right leg, Natsume kicked and slid the box along the parquet floorboard towards their room.

"All that football training helped, huh?" She laughed. She thanked him when they reached the room.

Together, Mikan humming, they unpacked.

As he didn't bring much, Natsume finished before Mikan. His few clothes were stowed away, some folded, some hanging. His new toothbrush was standing in a cup, next to hers. He put his spare shoes by the front door. He was done.

So, naturally, he went over to Mikan's box to help her.

"You know I would have said yes if you asked me, right?" Natsume suddenly checked as he pulled out three lavish coats from the box. His tone was neither accusatory nor condescending; rather, he simply said these words to assure her of his place in her life.

Mikan, sitting on the floor, who was folding some pyjamas, blushed. "I didn't know that. You could have said no."

"Mikan, I asked you to take my surname someday. You said yes. Living together, sharing a bed is small compared to the promise sharing a whole life," he simply said, fondly looking over at her as he hung up one of her coats with a hanger.

Natsume moved back to her box and found that she had also packed his hoodie. Well, he supposed it belonged to her now. It belonged on her side of the wardrobe. He picked it up and mused how it smelt her like now. He got another hanger and hooked it on her rails.

When he returned to her box and peered in, to fork out the next item, his eyes found then focused on _red_. His eyes glinting hungrily, he pulled out a delicate, lace lingerie. It was deep, dark red.

"Shit, Mikan" he cursed; she looked back at him, saw what he was holding and smirked, before she coyly returned to folding her pyjamas, "why haven't I see you in this yet?"

"I thought I could wear it tonight," she breezily explained, "I thought of you when I saw it last week in the shops."

Natsume laid it on the bed, as an eager reminder to her to uphold her words later on.

By the time the pizza came, they had finished unpacking all of Mikan's boxes. They had been making out passionately when the doorbell rang; Mikan turned away from Natsume, but he continued to grope her under her top and his lips now hotly kissed her just under her ear.

Mikan pulled herself up from the bed. Natsume groaned at the loss of contact, dismayed by this interruption.

"We'll continue later," Mikan breezily said, smirking at his sulking, "and I'll wear _that._ "

She left to go open the door. Natsume exhaled deeply, steadying his heartbeat, calming his carnal thoughts. After a few more seconds, he got up too, making his way into the kitchen.

Mikan was already sitting on the new sofa with the two boxes of pizza. She was flicking through the channels, trying to find something good for them to watch.

As Natsume ate, his attention wavering between the food, television and Mikan, his mind how wandered to more practical things. The pure jubilation he felt towards their new home still resided in the forefront of his mind, but now, other matters presented themselves too.

He knew his dad would be okay with his new living arrangements. Aoi had already given him her blessing. Yoyogi Park had good transport connections, so he would be able to commute to university and his jobs easily. But there was more at hand here.

Finally, Natsume breached the matter, "So, how much is the rent?"

Mikan paused. She stopped chewing, and her eyes slowly peeled away from the television screen, turning to Natsume. She saw his firm expression. Finally, she swallowed her mouthful, "I bought this place. In full. There is no rent, no mortgage—"

"Well, I can pay rent to you," Natsume said, "I didn't contribute anything. I can't live here for free."

Mikan put her pizza box down on the coffee table. She tucked her legs under her on the couch and turned to face him.

"Look," she spoke in a firm tone, "you don't need to pay me rent. That's ridiculous. It's done, okay? I won't accept rent money. I bought it, and—"

"But you bought this flat with me in mind," Natsume softly said; his tone was not accusatory; it just held a smidge of regret. He wished he could have contributed to their new home.

"I did," Mikan gently agreed, her hand touching his bicep, "this is _our_ home."

"I'll pay for the bills then," Natsume reasoned, "and I'll get the groceries. I know that it won't add up but it's the least I can do—"

Mikan laughed. "Silly," she shook her head, "we'll _both_ pay the bills and groceries, okay? We'll share."

Natsume appreciated her saying this, but he still felt he was not contributing enough. He averted his gaze, contemplating. Then, he realized that Mikan had not told him of her plans to buy this flat _specifically_ because of this: she knew that he would have insisted on sharing the cost if she had told him that she was buying a flat for them. He understood that she had done all this with him in mind, him as her priority.

"Natsume?" she softly called, seeing his conflicted expression.

He blinked, finding her tentative eyes. This was no time to act like this. So, he cleared his expression and said, "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"The next place we live in… it'll be a house, not a flat. It'll be our family home," he elucidated, and she understood him to mean a house for four or five, "and we'll buy it together."

Mikan nodded, taking his hand. "Together; I promise." She sealed her words by kissing his cheek.

* * *

 **A/N:** In a rush, but let me say thank you for all the reviews!


	10. Together

**A/N** : I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Ten** : **Together**

* * *

Having spent much of the rest of the evening 'christening' their flat, Mikan and Natsume woke up rather later than what they had aimed for. Their lateness was then extended by Natsume, who, when they were still in bed, very sweetly asked Mikan if she wanted him to kiss her below the waist. She couldn't possibly say no to that face, or to that silver tongue.

A few hours later, Natsume and Mikan walked out of the furniture store to the car park, each pushing a trolley filled with bags of new household goods along, happy with their many purchases. Mikan especially liked their matching mugs, and that fluffy, grey blanket they had bought. She thought about all the cosy nights-in they could spend together on the sofa, intertwined under that blanket. Natsume liked the small tangerine-shaped fridge magnets he had found very much.

Natsume had insisted, at the belted checkout counter, that he would pay for all their new home goods. Mikan tried to protest, but Natsume contended that she had paid for the framework, so he'd pay for everything inside. Reluctantly, she agreed, but she saw how gratified this decision made him so she quickly let it slide.

After packing all their new things in the back of the car, Natsume then drove them to the nearest supermarket. From washing up liquid, to orange juice, to icing sugar, they bought everything that appealed to their eyes. At the checkout counter here, Natsume and Mikan split the cost, eagerly bagging everything in plastic bags. Once again, they transferred these bags into the car – they remarked how there was more than enough space for Natsume's things.

"We can put your books in the backseats," Mikan observed, putting her seatbelt on.

Natsume agreed and started the car up.

Next stop: his dad's home.

* * *

"Ah, Natsume!" Ioran called as he heard the front door open. He was in the kitchen, stirring his curry. "We were wondering what time you'd be back!"

"Hey, dad,"

"Hello, Ioran," chimed in Mikan's voice, as the front door shut.

"Hi, Mikan!" Ioran and Aoi welcomingly sing-songed.

"Hi, Aoi-chan!"

Together, after they had taken their shoes off, they made their way to the kitchen. The food smelt sweet, spicy and homely.

Aoi, who had been watching television, twisted her body around and leaned her arms over the sofa. She mentally marvelled, yet again, how happy they both looked together.

"I heard that you moved, Mikan," Ioran remarked, smiling. "I hope the move is going well?"

"Oh," a dusty pink settled over her cheeks, "yes, very well—"

She glanced at Natsume. From that glance alone, Aoi knew that she had been right all along.

"I've decided to move-in with Mikan," Natsume suddenly announced, "We're going to live together."

Ioran was absolutely thrilled by this pronouncement; he stopped stirring the curry and came over to give both his son and Mikan a hug. "How exciting this all is! Oh, how wonderful!"

Aoi covertly threw her older brother a pointed 'I told you so' look, before she too burst into compliments.

Overwhelmed, Mikan couldn't stop laughing and smiling, nodding enthusiastically at everything Ioran and Aoi said.

"I'm going to pack all my things and take them with me. Dad, can I borrow your car again tonight—"

"Well, let's all have dinner first," Ioran cordially suggested, "I've made more than enough for all of us and seconds. After dinner, we can all help you pack your things, and then I'll drive you. It'd be silly for you to make a redundant round-trip."

Natsume and Mikan agreed to Ioran's propositions, and then Mikan personally thanked him for his consideration, kindness and hospitality.

Dinner, as always, was a fun, spirited affair that satisfied not only the stomach but also the heart.

As Mikan watched Natsume laugh at his father's poor joke, she briefly wondered whether she was uprooting him, plucking him out of his environment. She knew how much his family meant to him. She decided that they should invite Ioran and Aoi to dinner as much as possible.

Once dinner was done, Natsume and Mikan washed the dishes. Then, the packing commenced. They all gathered in Natsume's room and tackled his bookshelf, desk and wardrobe. Natsume's books took longest to organize and pack; they not only included astrophysics books, but novels, poetry books and even photo albums (Mikan couldn't wait to peruse them later). Everything else moved rather smoothly. Natsume unstuck the photo by his lamp; that treasured photo of Mikan in Ueno Park. Carefully, he sandwiched it between his clothes, knowing it would not be crinkled there.

Soon, they were done.

Natsume looked around his bare room. This had been his bedroom for all his life. A bittersweet feeling throbbed in his heart: he _wanted_ to go, he _wanted_ more than anything to live with Mikan in their home, but suddenly, the significance and the reality of him leaving his family home dawned on him.

He had a new home now.

Abruptly, Ioran exclaimed that he had something he wanted to give Natsume and Mikan. He told them it was somewhere in his room, so he asked them to wait a few more minutes until he retrieved it. They agreed, of course.

Mikan, shrewd and particularly attentive to her boyfriend, caught a glimpse of Natsume's poignant expression. She guessed his feelings correctly. Unlike her, who had been _liberated_ by her decision to move-out, Natsume's relationship with his family was strong, and it meant a part of his heart would always reside here. And, she was sure it was nothing compared to Natsume's feelings, a part of her mourned to leave this room too. She remembered the first time she had come here; that heart-warming welcome she had received from his family… and her and Natsume's exceedingly intimate night together afterwards…

For a time, this place, this room had become her sanctuary; a beautiful shelter that showed her that happy families _did_ exist in this world, opening the possibility for her too. She had learned so much here.

Yet, she knew very well that many of Natsume's memories in this room, in this home, did not revolve around her. These walls held his childhood, the imprints of his mother…

She thought it was best he said goodbye to his room and his home with his sister, not with her.

"I'll wait in the corridor," Mikan kindly said, smiling empathetically. Quietly, she slipped out of his room.

She could hear the sibling's soft conversation from the other side of the wall, in the corridor.

"This room will always be yours, here for you," Aoi told her brother, sitting down next to him on the bed.

"You won't turn it into your closet?" Natsume softly teased, his expression still heavy with sentiment.

"… Well, now that you've given me the idea…" She giggled, "I'm joking. Your room has terrible lighting anyway. Not enough natural light." His heavy expression did not lighten with her words. So, comfortingly she pulled her big brother in for a hug. "You're too sensitive. Mikan'll worry," she gently chided.

"It just…" he clutched his sister's arms, "I just really miss mum."

(Outside, Mikan's heart painfully clenched at this confession.)

Then and there, Natsume distinctly remembered the feel of his mother's hand on his forehead, her caring touch, when he had lay on this bed sick with a high fever many years ago.

"Me too… but don't let nostalgia hold you back from the future." Aoi's advice was firm and sympathetic. "You said it yourself: Mikan's your present and future."

(Mikan felt breathless: she didn't know that Natsume had entrusted this to his sister—it made her feel incredibly happy, _so_ happy to think that he had decreed this, validated _their_ future, to the people he loved.)

"Besides," Aoi tone became lofty, "with you out, this means I won't have to listen to the two of you going at it ever again—"

(Mikan gaped, horrified, and clapped her hands to her mouth. She turned a bright shade of red.)

Natsume's tone had changed too: "We've never done that here before—" he lied, deeply disconcerted, faltering slightly.

"Um, unless you two enjoy watching _porn_ together until the early hours of the morning every time Mikan stays over, then _yes,_ you have. Many times."

(Mikan silently spluttered. She could only imagine Natsume's horrified expression.)

He tried his best to refute her claims, but alas, to no success.

Aoi brazenly continued, "With you gone, I no longer have to pretend that I'm deaf half of the night, that I didn't hear everything you two said and did to each other the night before," Aoi continued, lofty and devious, "maybe I _won't_ need therapy after all—"

Natsume (very unconvincingly, very poorly) still maintained, "We've never… we don't…"

"Natsume—it's a _small_ flat and we have _thin walls_ ," Aoi exclaimed, laughing, "I could hear _everything._ In fact, I'm sure that Mikan heard _everything_ we've just been talking about—haven't you, Mikan?" Her question was spoken louder, directed at Mikan.

"Y-Yes," Mikan stammered, her voice squeaking.

Natsume came out of his room. He also looked slightly pink. She sheepishly smiled in his direction. He returned the guilty smile. At the same time, they both resignedly shrugged in semi-amusement, trying their best to dismiss the awkwardness.

Aoi popped her head out of the bedroom. She saw Mikan's blush and understood it as solid, irrefutable confirmation. "Ah, so you did hear everything!" She turned to Natsume, "See? If she heard us talking, why wouldn't I hear you guys—"

" _Aoi_ —"

Ioran came to the rescue: he dashed out of his room, interrupting them all, pulling everyone's attention away from Natsume and Mikan's activities. Not noticing anything to be amiss, Ioran presented a painting to them.

"I want you two to have this," he proudly declared. "I painted it around the time I met you, Mikan. I didn't realize it at the time, but I suppose I was always painting this for the two of you, for your new home. Life is quite funny and strange like that."

Her blush sobered; now, her expression was that of awe and deep gratitude. It was a small, beautiful, delicate painting of flower field. In the corner of the painting, stood a small home by a creek. All the colours were soft and warm, like a baby's breath. It was picturesque, charming and earnest. It evoked the powerfully fragile feelings of security and homecoming.

Mikan loved it.

"It's my gift to you both," Ioran said, "I hope it finds a good place in your home."

"It will," Mikan promised, "it's so beautiful. It's perfect."

"I'm glad," Ioran's smile was serene. Then, he caught his son's emotive expression. Immediately, he pulled his son into a hug. He was so happy for his son; so happy for the man he had become, so happy for the couple's mutual love and affection.

Soon, the time to leave came. Aoi decided to join too. Holding Mikan's hand, Natsume left his childhood home. Soon, his father was driving him away from their small home. Aoi sat in the passenger seat, and so, in the backseat, surrounded by books and sitting close by Mikan, Natsume looked back through the window. Soon, he couldn't see it anymore. The books rattled beside him. He felt Mikan slip her hand on his. He squeezed it and looked at her. She smiled at him.

 _My present, my future._

* * *

Ioran and Aoi left after they helped carry all of their new things, their groceries and Natsume's things up to their flat. Mikan thanked them profusely for their help. Briefly, they explored the flat, impressed and excited by Natsume's new home, before they decided to take leave owing to the late time. Mikan invited them for dinner that weekend. They accepted the invitation, excited to return.

Then, they left.

"Let's go to bed; I'm tired," Natsume yawned, his arms cradling Mikan's waist as he rested his head on her shoulder. Slowly, he slowly moved in the direction of their bed, still embracing his girlfriend from behind. She moved with him, and turned her head to the side to give his cheek a kiss.

Soon, they were tucked in bed. Natsume moved to spoon his girlfriend, but soon, he found himself on top of her, kissing her deeply. Her naked legs circled his waist encouragingly, and her grip tightened when she felt his heavy breath against her neck as his fingers wandered.

She moaned. But that very sound reminded her of Aoi's disturbing revelations: to Natsume's befuddlement and bewilderment, Mikan suddenly shot up, pushing her boyfriend off of her.

Disorientated, Natsume blinked, "What happened? Did I bite too hard—"

"I just remembered what your sister said!"

Natsume paused. He grimaced. Reluctantly, he was reminded too.

But then, he pointed out, "Well, she's not here… you can be as loud as you want, Mikan."

Mikan swatted away his suggestive hands. "What if your _dad_ heard us… heard _me!_ "

Soothingly, he ran his hands down her arms. She relaxed under his touch. He kissed the tip of her nose. She closed her eyes. Soon, she was on her back once more, Natsume hovering above her. He kissed her softly on her temple, then murmured in her ear, "You _do_ moan a lot… and you _whine_ like nothing else—"

Her lull broke; again, she squealed and struggled, "Natsume!"

"—but I wouldn't have it any other way." She stopped squirming, and he steadfastly cupped her cheek, while his other hand stroked her hair, "I love the sounds you make with me. And with no sisters, no dads, no maids or butlers here in _our_ home, you can make even _more_ noise. For me."

"… Okay. For you."

* * *

The next morning, Natsume's alarm woke him up. Groaning, he stretched his hand to silence the beeping. Groggily, he noticed that Mikan was not in bed with him. Yawning, sluggishly, he pulled the covers away. Today, he had to go to the office for his research. It was nearly done – this was the last lap in the race now. Then later tonight, he was tutoring an undergraduate student at the university café. He had a long day ahead of him.

He rummaged in his side of the wardrobe. He pulled out his usual choice of outfit and laid them all on the bed. First, he needed a shower.

Soon, he was clean and dressed; still yawning, he finally left their room in search for coffee and for Mikan. He found both waiting for him in the kitchen.

"Good morning, baby," She brightly said, smiling. She was wearing a sheer black robe.

"You're up early," he commented, before he planted a soft kiss on her hairline, "good morning."

She nodded. "I woke up at six and I've been wide awake ever since. I've made you breakfast! And I unpacked our new home goods, groceries and a few of your things," she motioned around vaguely.

He looked around. Yes; now, he saw that she had folded most of his clothes by the sofa. She was clearly waiting for him to wake up before moving them into the wardrobe, not wanting to disturb his sleep. His heart also clenched as he saw that she had put up his dad's painting in one of the new frames they had bought, and that she had already put it up on the wall. The painting gleamed at them prettily. He also noticed that she had decorated their fridge with photos using the tangerine magnets. Photos of them together smiling happily to the world; photos of Natsume and his friends; photos of Natsume taken by Mikan; photos of Aoi, Ioran, Natsume and Mikan all eating dinner together at his; that photo of Mikan in Ueno Park; and, finally, many photos of Kaoru Hyuuga.

He was so touched by Mikan's considerations, at her decision to place his mum in their home so willingly, so quickly.

"I took some photos from your photo albums. I hope that's okay," with the tip of her fingers, she softly traced the corners of Kaoru's photos and those of Natsume and his friends.

"Of course," he lightly touched the photos of his mother, "… I haven't seen this one in ages. I took it in Osaka," he told her, "at a tea shop. We were waiting for Aoi and dad." Then, he confessed, "I liked having her to myself. I liked when it was just us; I always felt so lucky. I'm sure dad and Aoi did too. Mum had this ability to make everyone feel like they were the most special person in the world. Like you," he smiled at Mikan, now touching her hand, "you do that so effortlessly too."

"I don't do that to everyone," Mikan replied modestly, "I don't think I know how. I only do that to _you_ , because you _are_ my most special person."

"No; you do it too. Everyone is always in awe of you,"

"That's because I'm Mikan _Sakura_ ," she dismissed easily, shaking her head. "That's different."

"Maybe at first," Natsume granted, "but after they see you for who you are, they love you for _that_ , not for your name. Look at Aoi – to her, your name no longer means anything compared to your being. She hardly cares for Mikan _Sakura_ any more. Now, Mikan awes and inspires her. The same goes for my friends."

She still dismissed his kind words. That was not how she saw herself.

She peered at Kaoru's photos again. She wondered if Kaoru would have liked her. She wondered whether Kaoru would have approved of her dating her wonderful, beloved son.

"I wish I met her," Mikan longingly professed.

Natsume gazed at the photo again too. "She would have loved you too," Natsume simply knew this to be true. "I'll take you to her. We'll go to her grave soon."

"Yes," she pressed a quick, fleeting kiss against his jaw, "let's."

As he sat down for his breakfast, Mikan bit her lip, unsure about whether to voice out the words on the tip of her tongue. She decided to say it: "If you ever want to speak about your mother… I don't want to take that away from your family, but you can also speak to me about it if you wish. I… I might not know the right things to say, but I promise I'll listen to everything you say."

"Thank you," he sincerely said, touched by her words.

She smiled at him. She picked a grape from his fruit salad and popped it in her mouth before she sipped on her own coffee. Kindly, he left the grapes for her and passed her his bowl.

"I won't be back till after seven," Natsume reminded her. He was sure she already knew this.

She did; she nodded understandingly, chewing then swallowing the grapes. "I'll be here then."

"What are you doing today?"

"I'll finish unpacking—"

"Don't worry about my things—"

"No, it's fine," she insisted. "I don't mind at all. Though, I wanted to put all your books on the shelf but I didn't know how. I didn't know if you wanted them in a certain order. Do you alphabetize? What do you want on the top shelf? If you tell me, I can do that for you while you're at the office today."

"Are you sure?" He seemed hesitant; he knew how heavy some of his books were.

She nodded. "I'll be careful," she promised, seeing his concern.

"What else will you do?" He asked, after she had made a note on her phone of Natsume's desired categorization.

"I'm seeing Hotaru and Sumire for lunch," she told him, "then, we're going to a _Gucci_ event," she made face, grudgingly, "they're probably going to make us all wear something from the new collection. Sumire showed me the pictures; it looks _awful_."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he smiled as he sipped his coffee, "I'm sure you'll look great in it."

"Because of my name, they'll probably put in that horrendous orange faux-fur mess of a coat," she shuddered, shaking her head.

Natsume laughed. "Send me a photo."

"If you insist…"

* * *

She sent a photo just past 3p.m. He laughed when he saw her in the dreaded orange coat. Her fear had not been for nothing. It was an pure explosion of orange; she was drowning in the heavy collars. She was pulling an unhappy face, one of her thumbs pointed down. They had also painted her eyelids and lips orange. The look was strange, unconventional but he couldn't deny that she looked like a professional model.

 _SOS,_ she messaged him soon after.

 _Don't worry, you still look edible_ , he replied.

* * *

That Thursday, Mikan had to go to an event in Omotesando with Sumire in the evening; and so, Natsume thought this would be a good opportunity to have dinner with his friends. He had not told his friends about his move yet; he wanted too, of course, but he felt that something of this magnitude should be told in person.

Once they were all sat in the ramen bar, once they all had a drink in front of them, Natsume finally delivered the happy news.

"That's _great!_ " Luca congratulated.

"You lucky bastard!" Mochu cried, with a smile.

"So soon?!" Koko questioned, his tone was both surprised and pleased. "It hasn't even been a year!"

"He told us he wanted to get _married_ to her one day," Mochu pointed out on behalf of Natsume, "this shouldn't come as a surprise!"

"That's true… congratulations, Natsume!" He amended, leaning over to clap his shoulders supportively.

Now, Mochu questioned, "But I was thinking: don't rich people have arranged marriages and shit?"

Natsume snorted, his eyes mocking, "Well, she's kind of agreed. I doubt she would have accepted me if she had a fiancé, Mochu,"

"I'm just _sayin'_ ," Mochu shrugged, "I thought rich people only married rich. I thought that's how rich people stayed rich."

"Mikan's rich enough for the two of them… rich enough for _us_ too!" Koko joked, beaming. Luca kicked him under the table, glaring. "It's true! She bought them a love nest! Just like that!"

"It's a _home_ , not a love nest," Natsume amended, raising an eyebrow.

"But you gotta admit, it's quick," Koko said, "aren't you worried you two are rushing into things? What if living together isn't what you expect it to be?"

Pragmatically, Natsume answered, "I guess we'll deal with it then, if that ever happens," (but his tone suggested he thought this to be very, very unlikely.)

"You're not scared then? You're not scared it might ruin the relationship?"

"No," Natsume honestly replied, "I know it'll be more intense than before, but that's what I want. I want to come home to her. I want her to come home to me."

"When can _we_ come over?" Koko asked, grinning excitedly.

"Yeah, I wanna see the place!" Mochu harmonized. "Did she buy a palace? Is there a pool?"

"You two are idiots," Luca decided, shaking his head.

Natsume indulged the idiots. "Mikan wants to invite her friends too. We were thinking about inviting you all over together."

"Mikan's friends? More hot, rich girls? Sign me the fuck up!" eagerly, Koko waved a hand around.

* * *

 **A/N** : Again, in a rush! Thanks for the reviews and see you soon!


	11. Living With You

**A/N** : I don't own Alice Gakuen.  
 **CW** : Dirty talk, innuendos and blatant references to (rather graphic) sex.

 **Chapter Eleven: Living With You**

* * *

The first month passed like a rosy blur. Both Mikan and Natsume couldn't have been any happier. Their little flat now flourished with photos. They saw each other from all angles. Things had never been better or sweeter between them.

Natsume now knew himself to be the better cook between them: he did not mind teaching her, instructing her, all of which she listened to carefully, writing all his recipes and tips down in a hand-written recipe book. Natsume worked very well in the study – he loved it in there, and he loved gazing out the window from time to time. Mikan would often come to bring him snacks and tea, all of which he heartily welcomed: "You're going to make me fat," he had told her affectionately, countless of times, not really caring for his weight.

During the month, Natsume realized just how many events Mikan really did attend. He couldn't believe he didn't notice until now, suddenly understanding that from the beginning Mikan had been adapting to _his_ schedule. He hadn't realized the extent of this and so felt sorry, feeling as if he had been unfairly negligent towards her career. Yet at the same time, Natsume was incredibly moved by her unfaltering devotion towards him and his work. He knew he had to do the same for Mikan's career now. So he was there for her, supporting her faithfully; he helped her choose out her outfits, advised her on her hairstyle, picked out shoes for her but most importantly to her, he was there for her when she returned home. He would ask her how the event was, help with the zipper, reassure her, and then always let her rest on him.

In that first month, Natsume also discovered that Mikan got very bad menstruation cramps on the first two days of her cycle. He never knew, for she had purposefully never seen him on those two specific days whilst they lived apart. Aoi had never experienced something similar, her period had never really caused her pain, so for Natsume, it was his first time seeing a woman in bed, clutching at her sides, crying about the internal pain. It worried him very much, but she assured him that this was perfectly natural (and a very irritating reality) for many women.

He slipped back into bed with her, despite the fact that he was dressed and already late. He rested his hand on hers, which were softly cradling her lower abdomen. Her eyes were closed tightly, but the frown between her eyebrows lessened. "You're so warm," Mikan appreciatively whispered, melding herself into him, pressing his hand more firmly against her, "you're like a giant hot water bottle,"

"Does it help?"

She nodded, whimpering slightly. "But don't worry. This happens every month. It's nothing new. You need to leave or you'll be late." She gripped his hand, bidding him an unspoken goodbye.

He hesitated. He really did not want to leave her.

"Like I said, it happens every month," Mikan reiterated, "Don't worry. You can't take the day off for something that happens every month. And," she weakly smiled up at him, "at least I have the luxury of staying at home on days like these,"

He didn't like to think that she had suffered like this, alone, for the past years. He imagined her crying alone in her big bed, holding herself, reassuring herself that the pain would pass.

He had woken up today to the sound of her crying; her muffled sobs jerked him from his sleep, scaring all the tiredness away, but she had quickly reassured him this was natural and that he should get ready to go to the office. As he had changed, he kept his eyes securely on her, watching the way she painfully writhed quietly in their bed. Now, back in bed with her, his decision was made: his other hand now slipped underneath her and hugged her front too. He spooned her, pressing a chaste kiss on her head.

"There's a flu going around," Natsume suddenly said, holding her tighter, "I'll tell Jinno that I'm ill. I'll tell him that I'll work from home today,"

Mikan sighed in relief, her eyes fluttering to a close. She was happy to hear this. She wanted him there. But then, she said, "I don't want to this to become a habit for you. You can't do this every month just for my sake."

"Maybe I can," he stubbornly contended. Then, he asked, "Have you been to the doctors about this?"

She nodded. "I got my period when I was thirteen. The pains have been bad ever since then. My mum wasn't there, so the maids explained it all to me. Even Jii-chan tried to help explain, but he didn't really know anything," she giggled weakly at the memory, "but he was really worried about the cramps so he booked me an appointment with our doctor. The doctor said this isn't anything to be worried about. She said that most women experience menstruation cramps."

"Have you been more recently?"

"Yes. The same doctor advised that I go on the pill when I was sixteen. She told me it would help lessen the pain."

 _But it hasn't_ , Natsume thought, concerned.

"Don't worry," she understood his static silence, "just because the pain is still here doesn't mean that anything is wrong with me."

"Shall I get you some painkillers?"

"In a bit," she said, "for now, just stay here with me, please."

When she drifted back to sleep, Natsume quietly slipped away. He dropped Jinno a quick email to explain his absence, then, as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet for some pain relief medication. Once he found some, he placed it on the kitchen counter. Then, on his phone, he searched up menstruation cramps. He didn't know enough about them. He wanted to educate himself so to be more helpful towards Mikan.

Massages helped. He could always give her one. He read on a forum that some women thought lavender helped. Hibiscus tea too. Coffee was not good. Applying heat to the pain was very good.

He was sure Mikan already knew all of this. Of course she did; this was _her_ reality, not his. Of course she would have researched this herself. But he thought it would be beneficial for him to know too. At least, he could be ready for next time: he would buy the tea, the lavender oil and more hot water bottles for her.

He returned to their room and placed a glass of water and the pill sheet on her bedside table. He then went to his side of the bed and slid in beside her, as quietly as he could, once again. He held her and kissed the top of her head, mindful to warm her lower back and lower abdomen.

* * *

After lunch, Mikan insisted that she was feeling much better, that her pains had subsided, that the painkillers had worked. True to her words, she was no longer whimpering or writhing; instead, she was smiling and humming contently. She was lounging on the couch, curled up under the blanket, clicking through all the movie choices on television.

But she could feel Natsume hovering behind the couch, his eyes attentively on her. He was still very wary.

Groaning, she turned around with a half amused, half exasperated smile, "Natsume, I said that I'm fine! I feel fine now. So go! Go study! I'm okay, you can leave me—"

"Are you sure?" He did not budge.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Natsume, I'm just _bleeding_. I'm not dying! Stop making that face," She shifted, turned his way, moving up – her arms draped over the couch, reaching out towards him. Her fingers brushed against his; she curled them around his and played with them lightly. "You don't need to babysit me."

"Will you call me if you're in pain?" He questioned anxiously.

"Natsume, the study is literally a few metres away! I'll be _fine_ , but yes, if the cramps from hell return, I'll give you a shout."

"I'm serious,"

She tugged his hands, pulling him towards her. His legs were now pressed against the back of the couch. She sat on her knees on the couch, looking up at him, "Will you stop looking at me like I'm some fragile glass doll? I'm _okay!_ " His expression did not waver, nor did it change. So, with a resigned sigh, she dealt her ultimate blow, "You know what? I know for a _fact_ that you don't think I'm a fragile glass doll. You know why? Two nights ago, you said _explicitly_ with many, _many_ expletives that you enjoyed fucking me senseless, that nothing got you off harder than flattening me _into_ our bed. I also recall you telling me that pleasure and pain go hand-in-hand, whilst you were spanking my ass? Hmm? And that's no way to speak to a fragile _lady_ , is it? So quit looking at me like I'm going to break! I have you and _take_ you nearly every day, so there's no way that I can't take my period once a month, okay?!"

Natsume immediately blanched as hot, sweaty recollections burst in his mind: he could even hear her whiny 'Ah, ah, _ahhs_ ', his throaty grunts and groans as his mind replayed that night of him positively pounding into her from behind, on their bed, with her on her hands and knees and his hands, like an iron-vice, tightly gripping her small waist; he remembered the way he had raspily, hotly, pleadingly and deviously cajoled her to let him spank her, promising it would be _so good_ for her, that the pain would make her _come so hard for him,_ that the pain would make her delirious. He had been insatiable, greedy and needy that night, using his impish charms, smirks, tongue and eyes to take her to new heights.

But now his mouth was agape in horror; mortified, he banished away the panting hot reminiscences as pure, cold _fear_ clutched his faint, beating heart—

"Oh, _fuck_ ," he choked, with his eyes widened; alarmed, he anxiously looked down at her as if she would quite literally break apart, "what if _I_ caused this! What if I… what if I fucked something up in you?! What if, that night, I—"

Throwing her back on the couch, her hands slipping from his, Mikan burst into manic laughter.

"This is not funny!" Natsume cried, on the brink of total and absolute panic. He jumped over the couch and sat beside her; his arms found her shaking shoulder (they were positively vibrating from laughter) and he tried to collect her in his arms as he continued, just as restlessly, "Mikan, I'm _serious_ , what if—"

"Don't worry Natsume," She wheezed, wiping her mirthful tears away, "as much as you would probably _like_ to think that your dick is so mighty, powerful and strong that you _broke_ something inside me, rest assured you did not. I can _promise_ you that. You've never _actually_ and _literally_ fucked my brains out – only figuratively."

He looked unconvinced and still very, very worried that he had a part to play in her pain. "But that night was _really_ intense!"

"And? It was _good_ ," Mikan told him, her smile suddenly sultry, "that night was _really_ good for me, and probably for you too."

He blushed. Natsume Hyuuga _blushed_ at her saucy expression. But this was no time to stray: "Don't use your bedroom eyes on me! Quit distracting me; I'm being serious—" Now, she was pulling weird faces as he spoke, in an attempt to undermine and tease him, "That's it! No more wild sex, no more kinky shit, no more erotic games, no more—"

She stopped pulling faces. Now, she crawled onto his knees with a delicious pout, "But you _love_ all those things! And so do I," she whined.

"No more!" Natsume huffed precariously; he shifted so she wasn't pressed so intimately against him and peeled her suggestive hands away from his nape, "From now on, we're just going to have boring, good old-fashioned married-couple-with-two-kids-in-the-next-room sex: _strictly_ missionary with minimal noise and movements!"

Mikan, who had tantalizing dangled her lips before his, shattered her seductive play with a bellowing laughter. Yet again, she fell back, clutching her sides, exuding peals of laughter at her man.

"My _God_ _,_ " Mikan gasped through her laughter, "Natsume, I love you!"

 _Fine_ ; perhaps he _was_ exaggerating slightly, but she clearly could not see or did not bother registering his concerns at all.

Childishly, he grumbled, "Stop laughing at me. I'm seriously worried—"

"Oh, Natsume," Mikan kindly said, shaking her head amusedly, finding his hand to intertwine their fingers sympathetically. "You didn't cause my period pains. This happens _every_ month, with or without you violently humping me." (Natsume grumbled again, "You're making me sound like a rampant dog…") "It's always been like this for me;" Mikan told him, "you didn't cause it, okay? I wouldn't have teased you about the whole 'pain and pleasure' thing if I knew that you were going to take it to heart."

Natsume sighed.

Mikan pulled the blanket over him too. "Watch an episode with me. You can study afterwards."

"Now _you're_ babysitting me…"

She pulled him against her, her arm draping over him.

Nestled against her, finally, he conceded, "I overreacted. I'm sorry. It's just that my sister's never experienced anything like this before, and when I saw you this morning, it really scared me. I felt really out of my depth."

"Most men _are_ out of their depths when it comes to menstruation; they're completely clueless," Mikan said, "… 'cos, you know, the female body is _such a mystery_ ," she teased again, her eyebrows raised in an exaggerated fashion. "But, you can take my word for it: I'm okay."

Finally, he accepted, "Okay,"

"And Natsume?"

"Mm?"

"If you think we're only going to have missionary sex when we're married with two kids… you are _so_ wrong."

* * *

They had lived together for a month. By now, they knew for certain that they were incandescently happy. Affirmed, content and peaceful, they decided to invite their friends over for dinner.

And so, tonight was to be a special night! Natsume was finally (properly) meeting Mikan's friends, and his friends were to be there too, to meet and greet Sumire Shouda and Hotaru Imai. Natsume had made his friends (Koko and Mochu) promise to act on their best behaviour tonight, but honestly, he was glad of their company, their support. He had briefly Sumire and Hotaru, of course, on that first night but that was hardly an introduction. He scarcely remembered what Hotaru looked like. He hoped that they would think him worthy as Mikan's boyfriend, to be living here with her.

Mikan, Sumire and Hotaru were currently at an event. The plan was that they would all return home, back to theirs, together, straight after the event. The boys were in charge of preparing the meal. Together, the four of them fretted around in the kitchen, throwing curses at one another, muttering and grumbling.

"Luca, I _know_ how to cut an onion, okay?!" Mochu snapped, frowning. "I have a very sharp knife in my hand— _stop hovering!_ "

Luca squawked, horrified, "You're doing it all _wrong!_ "

"Since when is there a _wrong way_ to cut an _onion?!_ "

"Ow!" Koko suddenly yelped, twirling around, holding his finger. "I cut myself!"

Natsume rolled his eyes. " _Jesus_ _Christ_ —Koko, it's hardly a scratch. And _holy shit_ Mochu, what the fuck are you—you're cutting the onion with its fucking _peel_ on it!"

"So?"

"That's _completely_ wrong!"

The bickering chaos continued. Mikan and her friends were to return in thirty minutes.

It was a miracle that thirty minutes later, the table was set out neatly, and the food all cooked. Luca was opening a bottle of red wine when the front door suddenly opening, letting in a burst of conversation, colours and pretty scents.

They were back.

"—Oh, this is charming! How quaint!" Sumire gushed, as she looked around. "I adore it!"

"Shoes off," Mikan informed them, smiling.

"Shoes off?"

"Shoes off."

Natsume made his way to the entrance. His shyness manifested as stoicism. Mikan held his hand encouragingly, beckoning her friends to him. "This is—"

"Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome!" Sumire exclaimed, her eyes widening in delight. "Oh, you're as tall, dark and as handsome as ever! Wow, what a _man!_ Remember me?"

"Yes," he hid his falter very well, "nice to see you both again. I'm Natsume Hyuuga." His eyes flitted between the two. It was hard to decide which were more disconcerting: Hotaru Imai's cold, inquisitive eyes or Sumire Shouda's overly eager eyes. He braved them both for Mikan's warm eyes.

"Yes, I'm Sumire Shouda and this bitch next to me is Hotaru Imai,"

"Watch it…" Hotaru warned, one eyebrow rising.

"And you must all be Natsume's friends!" Sumire said, peering behind Natsume's tall form. "My, there are three of you! You're positively spoiling me!"

"Hello!" Mochu nervously squeaked.

Sumire Shouda dominated the conversation; she laughed and spoke loudly, and her whole air glittered wondrously. Natsume didn't mind her—her manners and lofty way of speaking reminded him a lot of Aoi. Mikan was glad that Sumire was actively making an effort with Natsume and his friend—Hotaru, she knew, needed a drink or two before she felt friendly enough to _smile,_ let alone engage in conversation.

The three boys were all awestruck, yet again. They had, of course, heard of Sumire Shouda and Hotaru Imai prior to this, for they were just as renowned as Mikan Sakura. Not only that: they were also just as beautiful as Mikan, just as special, just as ethereal. What did these people _drink_ , Mochu wondered, amazed, that made them so different to the rest of the world? Did they bathe in gold?

Sumire came to introduce herself to each of Natsume's friends. Her rich perfume opulently followed her, staining the air around her. Koko was absolutely intoxicated by her presence—as she looked on expectantly at him, waiting for him to give her his name like the other two had done, Koko couldn't help but blurt out, "Fuck, you're so hot,"

Hotaru snorted, smirking ( _that_ was the icebreaker she had craved); Mikan incredulously gawked, a giggle on the tip of her tongue; Luca smacked a hand against his forehead; Mochu gaped; and Natsume exhaled slowly, his eyes closed. _What happened to 'acting on your best behaviour'_ , he begrudgingly thought.

Koko was horrified at what had just slipped out of his mouth. He went bright red. "I-I mean… I'm Koko."

Sumire, however, laughed appreciatively, her green eyes twinkling. "I like this one!" She brazenly declared, looking over at Mikan and Hotaru sassily.

"You like anyone who thinks you're hot," Mikan pointed out, highly amused, "Come on," she said to Hotaru and Natsume, beckoning towards the dinner table.

"Well, of course," Sumire lightly replied, matter-of-fact. "Doesn't everyone? Besides, everyone thinks I'm hot, so naturally I'm inclined to like everybody!"

She spoke with such exuberant confidence, with no air of embarrassment.

Hotaru teased her for it, "Vanity suits you well, Shouda."

Natsume couldn't help smirk at Hotaru's comments; he hid it quickly though, not wanting to cause offence. But he could already tell he and Hotaru would probably get along well.

"Well, do you suggest I be falsely modest then?" Sumire questioned lucidly, tossing her glossy hair behind her shoulders. "I hate false modesty. I _know_ that I'm hot. I mean, do you think that I paid all that money to have a face that some people found unattractive? I asked my surgeon _specifically_ for a universally attractive face!"

Natsume was so surprised by her flippant honesty concerning plastic surgery. He had always assumed that people who got their faces done were very discreet about it. This revelation did not deter him or his friends away from Sumire; they were all intrigued by her frankness, for whilst Mikan had always suppressed her riches in front of Natsume's friends, Sumire fabulously owned it. She did not care if she came across as spoilt or excessive; throughout the dinner, she was determinedly herself. As they tucked into the meal, Sumire offhandedly spoke of the well-known singer Reo Mouri's sexual orientation as if it were the most obvious and normal topic for dinner. Of course, to her, it was a very normal topic of conversation. She did not adapt to the others, instead, she invitingly pulled them all into her ritzy world.

The dinner went very well; the food was good and the alcohol was welcomed heartily. Sumire bonded well with all of Natsume's friends, especially Koko (Koko fawned over her like a little boy in a candy shop—she relished this attention). Hotaru, who had sat next to Natsume, found pleasant conversation with him. Together, they discussed his research—after dinner, he promised to take her to his study to show her his work. She was very interested, marvelling quietly at his intellect. Mikan had mentioned his intelligence and now, Hotaru understood that she had not been exaggerating. In fact, Hotaru now felt rather guilty that she had not taken Mikan's word for it. Natsume _was_ smart, incredibly so; smarter, at any rate, than all the idiots she employed in her company. For the first time in a while, she was proven wrong: she had judged Natsume before meeting him properly, condemning him to be average in every sense. How sorely she had been mistaken, how stupidly snobbish she had been.

"I would love to see a brain like yours in the field of nanotechnology," Hotaru informed him as she sipped on her third glass of wine; "my company is investing a lot of money in the field. I would have liked to have someone like you to help in this venture. Should you have studied nanotechnology, I would have employed you here and now, on the spot."

Natsume sheepishly grinned. "That's nice of you to say,"

"It's the truth. I only speak the truth."

Natsume found Hotaru rather intense, but he liked her. He couldn't exactly relax when he was conversing with her, but their conversation had definitely been stimulating. He looked forward to showing her his research.

Under the table, she felt Mikan's fingers curl around his. He turned to her.

She smiled at him—a small, sweet smile. She was so content at this moment. This evening had passed so smoothly. The evening had passed so quickly; now, it was time to clear up all the wine glasses. "Shall we make some tea and get the dessert?"

"Let's," Natsume stood up, and she followed. Mikan took everyone's plates, insisting she was capable of doing it alone, as Natsume gathered teacups for everyone from the cupboard.

"You're both so _domestic_ ," Sumire observed as she watched them so effortlessly clean and move past each other in the kitchen. They shared a shy glance, refraining from comments.

Mochu groaned, laughing, "Look at their faces!"

After dessert, Sumire remained on the table—Koko and Mochu were both completely engrossed in her conversation. They both deeply stared at her face, gasping and gawking as she told them about her threesome with a famous singer and a very renowned politician. She was frank about her sexuality, not shying away from the details, and enjoyed laughing raucously. Both Koko and Mochu enjoyed her company immensely; finally, they had found a girl to laugh boisterously with.

Hotaru, Luca and Mikan followed Natsume to his study. Luca was interested to see the rest of the flat; Hotaru wanted to see his research and Mikan wanted to be close to Natsume.

Intricately, Natsume explained his research to Hotaru, who sat on his chair. Standing beside the monitor, he pointed at the screen when he wanted to clarify something. She listened, riveted to every word.

"Natsume has a conference soon," Mikan suddenly piped up, her hand on her friend's shoulder, "he's presenting his thesis at this year's Japanese Astronomical Conference. He'll be published after that, and when he graduates next year, he'll be a Professor! A _coveted_ Professor," she couldn't help but add affectionately.

"Are you going to this conference?" Hotaru asked Mikan, interested.

"Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"I would like to come to that," Hotaru informed them, "if that's alright."

"Of course, Imai-san," Natsume consented, gratified by her interest, "it's on the 29th of November. If you're not busy, you're more than welcome to come."

Mikan's eyes widened with excitement. She cried, "We could _all_ go! I know Luca, Koko and Mochu already are—but us three can go too!" She meant Hotaru, Sumire and herself, of course. "We can all come support you."

Natsume was touched by her enthusiasm, her undying support.

When they returned to the kitchen, everyone agreed of this plan. The rest had been inspecting all the different photographs on the fridge. Now, everyone gathered to look at all the pretty memories.

* * *

By midnight, they were alone in the flat.

The evening had passed splendidly.

Mikan was kissing her man in their bed, pressing her body on top of his, pecking his lips indulgently, softly as she spoke intimately against him. "Thanks to you, I have friends again,"

He gently shook his head, dismissing the credit. "That was all you. I didn't do anything. I'm sure they've always been your friends,"

"Well… you reminded me how good it feels to trust people… _thank you_."

* * *

 **A/N** : Sorry if this chapter goes slightly off tangent, especially the beginning. The next chapter is very long and there's much more 'plot development'. Again, I'm dashing off—so I'll speak to you all very soon!


	12. Exclusive

**A/N** : I don't own GA.  
 **CW** : Sex. Again.

 **Chapter Twelve: Exclusive**

* * *

Natsume was in the study, finalizing his presentation for his upcoming conference. Everything seemed to be in order. He was jotting down notes on a memo pad when Mikan popped her head in, knocking lightly on the door.

He turned to look at her. She was wearing that football hoodie, his first hoodie that she had claimed for herself. As always, he admired her.

"I'm going to the grocery store," she told him, "we've run out of milk. Do you want anything?"

He shook his head. "I'm okay, thanks,"

She blew him a kiss. "I'll be back soon,"

"Wear a coat," Natsume called after her, thinking of the October gusts, "it's cold!"

"I'll be fine!" She answered back; soon, he heard their front door close and returned to the universe.

That day, Mikan had not worn sunglasses or a hat as she usually did when she left the house. She was usually careful, mindful of her own celebrity. Even now, she still wore hats and sunglasses on her dates with Natsume, just in case. But today, she didn't think she'd need to, for the grocery store was only a five-minute walk away. With her face bared to the world, she walked. Her decision to do so, a decision so simple, a decision so obvious for the rest of the world, however, turned against her. People in the grocery store spotted the illustrious Mikan Sakura almost immediately. They couldn't believe someone so famous, someone so glamourous was out and about _shopping_ for milk. They nudged at each other, pointing inconspicuously towards her, silently communicating how strange it was to see Mikan Sakura wearing a hoodie, leggings and trainers – like she was some _normal_ woman in her twenties. Then, someone snapped a covert photo of her on their smartphone, and that same afternoon, that same someone sold the photo to a well-known tabloid magazine for a decent sum.

* * *

(An excerpt from the tabloid magazine, _The Moon_ / _The Daily Fail_ , the following evening)

 _Got MILK, Mikan? Yes, and a new MAN!_

 _Everyone's favourite socialite Mikan Sakura was spotted at a grocery store shopping for milk! Looking_ very _different from her usual glam get-up, Mikan Sakura was seen wearing a hoodie, black leggings and trainers. Whilst this rather ratty attire seems rather out-of-character and unrefined for her, our inside sources tell us something very exciting, something that explains this unpolished choice of outfit!_

 _Many of her fans and our trusty readers have picked up on the fact that Mikan Sakura in these recent months has been wearing an 'N' necklace around her neck, seen at various events (photos below). The necklace does not belong to any well-known jewellers and so, it has affectionately been dubbed by our readers as the 'Nth Mystery'. Everyone in Japan has been asking themselves what this necklace is, and what this necklace signifies. Well, the mystery has finally been solved! From our trusty insiders, we bring you an EXCLUSIVE scoop and the clue lies in the hoodie Mikan was 'sporting' yesterday._

 _That's right, sports. More specifically, football. More specifically, the English Premier League's Football Team, Arsenal!_

 _Mikan Sakura, seen in this Arsenal hoodie (that is far too large for her!), has finally revealed to the world that she is dating Arsenal footballer, Noel Newman! Our insiders tell us that the new couple are very happy together, and 'totally in love'. Noel Newman, 27, is Arsenal's top-scoring centre-forward, born and raised in London. We know that Mikan Sakura's older brother, Kaname Yukihara, spends most of his time there working. Could he be the one who set up these two lovebirds?_

 _Our insiders also tell us that Mikan Sakura has recently gained some hefty pounds. We're sure that Mikan is wearing her new beau's hoodie out of respect and support to his team but our insiders hint that it could also be because she's hiding a new bundle of joy! Whilst Mikan Sakura and Noel Newman's pregnancy is still unconfirmed, let us all take a moment to imagine their beautiful babies! They would be too adorable for the world! But how will her father, Tokyo's leading businessman, Izumi Yukihara react when he hears of their hasty pregnancy? Find out here first, EXCLUSIVELY._

* * *

Natsume frowned as he looked at his messages.

"Mikan," he called, his eyebrows furrowed, bewildered. She looked up from her bowl of cereal, cocking her head, "Why is Koko asking me about you and Noel Newman?"

Mochu had asked the same thing a few minutes prior too; he had ignored it, thinking it to be some practical joke—but now, Koko was asking the same thing as well?

Mikan's cheeks immediately went pink. Ashamed and embarrassed, she averted her eyes. "Oh… he's probably heard about the article… maybe he's read it…"

Confused, Natsume asked, "What article?"

Mikan sighed. "I was going to tell you earlier this morning, but I didn't know how to bring it up. It's this article that was published yesterday. My PR manager emailed me about it late last night. It's… well, sensationalist bullshit."

"About you and Noel Newman? The English footballer player, right?"

Mikan slowly nodded. "Someone took a photo of me at the grocery store yesterday wearing your Arsenal hoodie. And now everyone thinks I'm dating Noel Newman. I don't even know who that is!"

A pregnant pause.

Then—

Incredulously, Natsume roared with laughter. Dumbstruck at his reaction, her mouth gaped open before she slowly joined in the laughter. It _was_ strange, it _was_ funny, she supposed… in some way.

"The _fuck?_ " he exclaimed, his shoulders still shaking in mirth. "Are they insane? Just because of the hoodie?"

"Well, they've picked up on my necklace too," Mikan explained, toying with her precious 'N', "at events."

He raised his eyebrows, bemused. "So, they took one look at Arsenal and the initial 'N' and came up with Noel Newman?"

Mikan nodded. "Things like this happen a lot."

Natsume's couldn't believe what he was hearing. His eyebrows now furrowed. Suddenly, this wasn't so funny anymore. The incredulity and astonishment passed, and now, preposterous absurdity settled in.

"They even suggested I was _pregnant_ with his kid," Mikan told him.

Natsume gawked. They thought she was pregnant with Noel Newman's kid? But that would mean that they thought Mikan was having sex with Noel Newman. And just like that, Natsume bristled. "Well, they can shove that up their ass,"

"My PR manager has already set up a meeting with our agency's lawyers. My own personal lawyer is getting involved too. We'll make them retract the article."

"But what does this mean? What happens now?" He didn't understand any of this – he couldn't tell left from right. He couldn't believe any of this; his mind could comprehend so much, but this positively baffled him.

Mikan shrugged. "Well, the press will be more invasive towards me at the next event I go too. But I think my manager will advise me not to go to anything until this has all settled down."

"Oh, fuck," Natsume finally understood the gravity of this situation. "… shit, I'm so sorry that I laughed. I didn't realize—"

She seized his hands across the table. "It's okay. Actually, I'm glad you saw the humour in it. I thought you'd be upset," she softly said, "… I thought you'd be upset if you knew everyone thought I was dating Noel What's-his-face, and not you."

"Well, I know that's not true," Natsume simply replied. "Why would I be upset at something that's not true? I know that _I'm_ dating you, not him."

She nevertheless wanted to clarify, "I don't know who he is. I've never met him, I _swear_. I—"

Reassuringly, he gripped her hand. He halted her unnecessary clarifications with an understanding smile: "Mikan, it's okay. You don't need to worry about me. I'm not upset. You don't need to explain yourself. You've done nothing wrong."

Emboldened by his words, now, resolutely she gazed at him and firmly declared, "They don't know shit."

"No, they don't,"

"They know nothing about me. They know nothing about _us._ They don't know that we've been together for nearly ten months now. They don't know that we live together."

"No, they don't,"

"I'm never going to let them touch you," she fiercely decided then and there, "I'm never going to let them abuse you."

"I don't want them to abuse _you_ —"

"It's too late for me," Mikan inflexibly said, with no trace of resignation but total defeated acceptance, "but not for you. Don't worry,"

"Well, _now_ I _am_ worried," Natsume was frowning. "Which tabloid magazine are we talking about? Let me read the article,"

Mikan was immediately reluctant. But his supportive expression convinced her to pass her phone to him. Her manager had sent her the article. She opened it up for him. Quickly, his eyes skimmed through it.

By the end of the article, he was absolutely appalled, mortified. He was seething. He couldn't believe that he had actually _laughed_ when Mikan had first told him about it. There was _nothing_ funny in this poor excuse of journalism. It was disgusting. He had never read anything so lurid, so false, so _stupid_. Acidic fervour and a panting bitchiness fuelled this festering heap of spitefulness. 'Exclusive scoop'? Was this a joke? There was no integrity in the writing whatsoever. It was poison, and he couldn't stomach the way they wrote about Mikan, like she was some animal, commenting so casually, so cruelly on her weight. 'Ratty attire'? 'Unrefined'? 'Unpolished'? Were they fucking kidding? It was degrading, in every respect of the word. How fucking dare they do this to her? They wrote about her as if she weren't a human being, like she wasn't allowed to wear casual clothing when buying _milk_. His heart painfully clenched when he remembered that she had made him a cup of tea with milk as soon as she had returned from the store that day, probably mere minutes after this photo had been taken. He couldn't believe that she had suffered through this in silence, not telling him about this blatant abuse of her personal life. Had this happened before during their relationship? He felt the gaping void of his negligence towards her.

Mikan noticed his stony countenance. Natsume looked furious. She had never seen his face harden and contort so.

"Natsume," she softly said, "don't make that face. I promise that none of it is true…"

He looked up at her in disbelief. "Mikan…" he put her phone down, his face softening, now turning regretful, "I'm not upset at you, or even at Noel Newman. I know that none of it is true. I just can't believe this article's cruelty. It's the way they write. It's fucking disgusting. They," he couldn't even articulate his anger well, "they treat you with such contempt and then try to frame it as some form of celebrity worship. Do they do this often?"

"Only when they have an unflattering photo,"

"You didn't look unflattering in that photo!" He countered vehemently, "You looked fine! You looked _beautiful!_ "

Mikan laughed. His kind insistence made her feel so blessed. "Natsume…"

"You did! You always do!" He grabbed her hands. "And don't for a second think you're—what the fuck did they say again— _hefty!_ Fucking hefty! If _you're_ hefty, then half the fucking country is obese, and the other half should already be six feet under, me included! Are they shitting me—their insinuations are completely baseless," He was rambling fervently, incensed, "The fucking nerve of them—"

She pressed his hands to her warm lips. "Shhh… it's okay, baby…"

"Are _you_ okay?"

Mikan had been dealing with this shit ever since her mother's well-documented departure. It wasn't _okay_ , of course not. But she felt desensitized to all this shit now. This particular article had only worried her because she thought it would hurt Natsume. She didn't know it would cause such a reaction in him, though. Clearly, he had never read a tabloid magazine before (but she already knew that).

"Yes. I'm just glad you're not hurt by all this."

" _Me?_ How can you think about _me_ at a time like this…" he asked, marvelling at her love towards him.

"Very easily," she confessed, "when I read it, I only thought of you. I don't care what they say. I've heard it all before. Ever since I turned sixteen they've _exclusively_ been reporting _all_ my pregnancies…"

He shook his head, shocked. "So your lawyers will sort this out then? Will they sue?"

"Oh, no," Mikan replied, "like I said, this isn't anything new. But they _will_ make them retract it. You see, it's one thing to say a woman is pregnant, but a completely different thing to say a woman is pregnant and then name the father. They also made the mistake of mentioning my brother and father in the article. They absolutely hate to be associated with tabloid gossip, especially after everything with my mother. That's why my lawyer is involved this time. We might _threaten_ them with a lawsuit, but it won't go any further than that. We can't sue them every time this happens."

"So this _does_ happen a lot," He comprehended, horrified, "Fuck. Fuck, Mikan, I'm so sorry that I didn't know. I had no idea this is what you had to go through, after all these months—"

"I'm _happy_ that you never knew. I'm so happy that you never knew me from the tabloids."

"Will you tell me if this happens to you again?" He pleaded her, "I don't want you to go through things like this alone."

"Okay," she softly promised, "I will,"

Suddenly, his phone was ringing. It was Aoi. Immediately, Natsume frowned. He took his phone in his hand. Before he answered it, he muttered, "I'm going to ban her from reading all this sensationalist shit, I swear to God—hello?"

Just like he expected, Aoi had called him because she had just read the article. But to his surprise, she didn't launch into an interrogation; he had expected her to ask him whether or not Natsume and Mikan had broken up, and whether Mikan had dumped him for Noel Newman. Instead, she had called to vent her disgust, to _fume._ Not for one second had she believed the article's claims; she renounced every single line. Soon Natsume joined her diatribe, and pacing around the kitchen, the two Hyuuga siblings bitched indignantly about the tabloid article together via telephone.

"— _and the comment about her 'ratty' clothes!?_ " Aoi screeched furiously.

"I know! Like, the _fuck_ —"

Mikan watched her boyfriend's flushed cheeks, as he huffed and puffed. The anger was colouring him red. He was so concerned for her. If only he knew how much better he had made her feel about this whole situation. He really was her angel.

She didn't care about what they all said.

Let them talk. Let them run around in circles. They'll never catch them.

* * *

Everything was finalized. The magazine said they would retract the article later that day.

* * *

But soon after the magazine retracted their statements, Noel Newman himself got involved, through his social media account.

Inadvertently, he drenched the firewood in fuel…

 _My friends from across the globe have told me a recent tabloid article in Japan has claimed I am dating a Japanese socialite, Mikan Sakura. This is a false account. I have never met Mikan Sakura, nor do I know her older brother as suggested. However, if Mikan Sakura is available and in the mood for some English breakfast, I would like her to know that she is an utter babe, entirely my type, and always welcome to message me ;)_

People from both Japan and the U.K. fervently swarmed to his social media account, 'liking' this statement with a double-tap. The girls fawned and giggled, tagging their friends in the comments, bemoaning Mikan Sakura's good looks and luck.

"Um, I go buy milk wearing sweatpants everyday. Where's my footballer, huh?" "She's sooooo lucky!" "OMG I SHIP IT!" "GUYS omg Mikan Newman sounds SO GOOD" "English breakfast contains a lot of animal products. You should really consider going vegan xox" "MIKAN SAKURA IS A WHORE BITCH. LUNA IS BETETR than HER, PRETTIER, RICHER, BETTER, more TALENTTED –some derogatory animal emoji–" "DADDY AND MOMMY"

The boys, "bantering", guffawed about Newman's English sausage: "Sakura likes herself a full English breakfast, lads – four sausages before noon ;)" "I would kill my best friend for an hour with her" "newman want some rich pussy" "she's a slut n she only care for $$$$$$$ bitch like her mum" "check out my music –insert random link–" "TOP LAD!"

* * *

Natsume heard about Noel Newman's statement from Luca.

A footballer, one that he respected, had made a pass at his girl.

First, he felt shocked. Then, he felt viciously jealous. Finally, Natsume felt miserable.

How could _he_ , a part-time football _coach_ , compete with a Premier-League football _player_ that made _millions_ a year?

"Well, you're not competing with him in football," Luca obviously said, "in fact, you're not competing at _all._ Mikan is yours. You're hers. That's done. Besides, she's not some prize to be won. There is no competition. You know this."

Natsume gloomily sighed; at once, he felt aggravated and despondent. "I guess knowing that Noel Newman wants to get into my girlfriend's pants doesn't leave a good taste."

Luca shrugged. "Just because he wants to, doesn't mean he can or will. Mikan's yours. She's going to marry you one day."

"I know…" but did he? Did he really _know_ this? Surely not; no one really _knew_ anything for certain. Death was the only certainty guaranteed in life.

Mikan was her own person. She was allowed to break up with him, of course. She was allowed to break up with him and fly to London to see Newman. He knew she wouldn't… but she could. This possibility of _leaving_ had never occurred to him before in their relationship, and now, Natsume couldn't stop thinking how delicate everything felt. He knew how strong his feelings were towards her. He knew how strong her feelings were towards him. But that didn't mean that they would be so in ten years time. Things may not always be this way.

He felt his phone buzz once in his pocket. It was probably Aoi, bitching about Noel Newman's statement. He would call her later.

Luca clapped his hand against his best friend's shoulder. He was glad he came to see him at the university during his break. Natsume was in need of a friend.

"This will all blow over," Luca pragmatically said, "don't worry about it. His statement is just nonsense."

"It's just… well, disheartening to see some of the comments. People are really excited about the prospect of Mikan dating Noel Newman…"

"That's just shipping culture; a reflection of the silliness of our own contemporary mindset, where everyone looks at famous people for a story, desperate for gossip. It's all just pure entertainment. That's all this is. None of it is really real."

"Yeah. Mikan said something like that once."

"Don't read the comments. You never did. Don't start now. Who cares what they have to say?"

Natsume agreed with Luca. He didn't need to indulge in this strange, fake world now. But he couldn't help his disgusted fascination towards everyone else: "Why do they read this shit? Why are they all so invested in other people's lives like that? Why do they care so much about something that's none of their business?"

"They're bored. They feel unfulfilled with their menial lives so they look elsewhere for diversion. What else?"

"It's sad," Natsume summarised, his voice hollow. He knew how much his sister used to love reading trash magazines. Mikan had changed her perspective to a great extent, but perhaps this incident would dispel her celebrity fascination once and for all. At least, he hoped so.

"It is sad,"

Natsume exhaled. Then, sulkily, he looked at his best friend. "I don't know if I support Arsenal anymore,"

Luca laughed in good-humour. Playfully, he punched his friend's shoulder. " _Good!_ I've been telling you for _years_ that Arsenal is utter shit! All English teams are. French football teams are the best," he loyally said (his mother would be so proud!), "and deep down, you've always known this."

"And that game two weeks ago," Natsume felt the need to bring this up, still sulking childishly, "against Barcelona… Noel Newman played _shit_. A fucking disgrace."

"He totally fucked up," Luca concurred, nodding, ever so slightly smiling at Natsume's childishness. "Koko'll agree with you there. He also wanted me to tell you that, if given the choice and if he were gay, he'd chose you over Noel Newman as a husband-slash-lover any day."

Natsume snorted. "That's nice… but seriously, fuck Arsenal. Vive la France."

Proudly, Luca high-fived his best friend in approval.

* * *

He spent most of the day bitching about Noel Newman with different people. After Luca left, he spent another half an hour on the phone with Aoi, bitching. Then Mochu called. More bitching ensued. On his commute home, Koko texted him. They had a nice, lengthy bitch session through text, deciding once and for all that Noel Newman looked like a pigeon.

By the time he reached home, Natsume felt considerably better. It had been therapeutic to get all of his petty resentment out. All the poison in his heart was gone. Now, all he wanted was to eat dinner with his girlfriend and then snuggle her.

"Natsume!"

Natsume was shocked when his girlfriend, running towards him, abruptly leapt on him, circling her arms around his neck. He had been in the midst of taking off his shoes, and so, he stumbled backwards clumsily before he stabilized himself against her. His arms instinctively curled around her waist.

"Hello—"

"I was so worried!" She cried, interrupting him. "I kept calling but your phone was always busy," Her eyes were imploring him, but her lips were apprehensive. "Did you hear about the statement? Natsume, I'm so sorry—"

Natsume interrupted her by kissing her on the lips. "You forgot 'welcome back, honey'."

She blinked, surprised by his easeful tone and kind smile. "You… you didn't hear?"

"I did. I spent the whole day debating whether or not I still want to support Arsenal or not. The verdict is a big fat no."

She smiled, relieved.

He was all right. He was smiling. She was so glad. She had been so worried.

"Welcome back, honey," Mikan finally said, pulling him towards the kitchen, "I made a _huge_ dinner for us."

"Oh, _shit_ ," Natsume gaped at all the different dishes on the table. "… Jesus, Mikan, you've cooked for ten people!"

"I thought you were upset at me," Mikan explained, "so I thought I'd treat you and make all your favourite dishes,"

"I was upset but never at you," Natsume honestly said, still in disbelief. How long had this taken her? "Did you make the gyoza from scratch?!"

"Yes,"

He kissed her cheeks. "You didn't have to," but he was grinning excitedly, like a child on Christmas day. Everything smelt wonderful. She had already set the table. He took his seat and she took hers. But before he dug in, he felt that he needed to reiterate, "You really didn't need to do this as a form of apology. I'm not upset. More importantly, you've done nothing wrong. There's no need for you to apologize."

Mikan pressed her lips together. "You could still be upset at this situation without being upset at _me._ " He supposed this was true; he let her continue, "His… his statement was just so crude… typical laddish uncouthness. I thought you'd be angry… jealous, even."

"Oh, I was," Natsume straightforwardly admitted. "I felt like buying a ticket to London and sticking a bloody English muffin up his ass," (Mikan giggled), "but fuck him. He's an idiot and, frankly, his playing has been substandard recently. I don't like the way he spoke about you though. It was crass. But I have no idea on how to defend your honour."

He frowned slightly at his own choice of word. He didn't know if 'honour' was the right word. He hoped that she understood his sentiment anyway.

She did. Nonetheless, she tittered. "You don't need to defend my _honour_ , Natsume. I'm not a medieval fair maiden."

"Are you okay though?" He asked, concerned. "Today must have been a total media meltdown for you."

She shrugged. "My team dealt with it. I didn't really do anything. I just stayed in, as instructed by them." She started to fill his plate, generously piling it with food. She wanted her man to eat good tonight.

He took his plate from her with a thank you. He told her how good all the food looked. Appreciatively, he ate everything on his plate and asked for seconds.

After they had eaten, Natsume cleaned up. Mikan patiently waited for him on the couch. He joined her soon enough; he pulled the grey blanket over them and pulled her to him.

She snuggled against him, her eyes gently closing. She was full; she was content. She could stay here forever.

"Will things always be this good between us?" Mikan softly asked.

Her question surprised him. With bare honesty, he replied, "I don't know. I hope so." She was silent, so he added, "For a moment today, everything felt so delicate. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by this possibility that one day you might love another, be it Noel Newman or someone else."

She flinched, looking up at him with an indignant expression. "I would _never_ —"

"No-one can predict the future," Natsume calmly said, kissing her reassuringly.

Hurt, she responded, "The same goes for you. One day, you might love someone else."

Natsume solemnly considered this. Uncertainty was never a nice feeling. "But I suppose that's why I love you all the more… because things in this world are always delicate. I love you so strongly and so defiantly to beat all the odds."

She seemed pacified with his words. She returned to the crook of his neck, pressing her lips softly against his skin.

"Well, I know that I will always love you. I just know. I know it. You're my present and future. I'm going to be Mrs Hyuuga."

He smiled at her determination. But teasing, he quipped, "I heard otherwise. I heard people say that you are soon to be Mrs Newman…"

She pulled a face. He laughed.

"You speak about it so easily," Mikan commented, her nose wrinkled in distaste, "didn't it bother you at all?"

"Of course it did," Natsume replied, "I spent all of Luca's lunchtime moping. In fact, I spent the whole afternoon sulking. But then Koko said Newman looked like a pigeon and I felt better." Mikan laughed heartily. "And then I realized how odd it was for me to be jealous of someone that both you and I had _never_ met before."

"That's very wise and astute of you," Mikan giggled.

"I guess the only thing I regret is that I don't like Arsenal anymore. Now, the team's flaws are obvious to me. I'm going to have to give you a new hoodie," he smoothly jested, "I can't have my girlfriend walking around wearing an _Arsenal_ hoodie, can I?"

"But that hoodie's my favourite," Mikan pouted, tapping his nose with her finger, "I fucked you so good in that hoodie, remember?" She spoke so effortlessly, so brazenly.

That intimate night rippled through his memories.

They both sighed longingly.

"Of course I remember. But it's okay. You can just fuck me better in other hoodies. I have loads to chose from." He equalled her in shamelessness.

They were both laughing now. Mikan kissed him, taking in all of his breaths and laughs. Soon, he was kissing her back properly.

"Shall we go test all the hoodies out then?" She loftily asked, looking at him, her eyes sensual. "Let's keep going until we find our new favourite hoodie. I need a new one."

Natsume heartily agreed. They left the couch for their bedroom.

* * *

A few hours later, both on their backs in their bed, panting and sweaty they reached a consensus.

"Definitely the Alice Academy one," Mikan exhaled shakily; she was scorching, so she hastily peeled the hoodie off of her and flung it on the floor. Now, completely naked, a bit cooler, she laid beside him. She planted her hands on his heaving chest. With a gratified grunt, he wholeheartedly agreed with her verdict. She could feel his heart hammering beneath his warm, damp skin. She sidled closer to him so she could kiss him on his chest, wetly, open-mouthed. "What is Alice Academy?"

He put a hand on her head, pressing her closer against him; she responded by kissing his chest more deeply. His eyes closed again and he groaned in appreciation. He felt like he was on fire. He was completely and utter sated, and yet here she was again, igniting and stoking the blaze.

"It's the name of my high school. It's my high school hoodie," Natsume's words were slurring. Then, he grinned rather lazily. "If people saw you in that, they'd probably faint or alert the police."

She stopped kissing him. She looked up at him. "Why?"

Natsume snorted, amused, and glanced down at her. "Well, let's just say it's a rough school. Not a school fit for a princess like you."

She shook her head, laughing. "I'm not a princess—"

"It's a state-funded school," He told her, and light-heartedly he widened his eyes as if to frighten her away with this _horrendous_ revelation.

Catching his wit, she mock-gasped. "Goodness!" she cried exaggeratedly, feigning horror. "Free education! Whoever heard of such a calamity! What a dreadful prospect!"

They both laughed together and continued to tease the upper echelon's penchant for sending their kids to the most exclusive, expensive schools in the country or abroad. She pressed her naked body against him, and slithered her way up so that they were eye to eye. Her arms embraced him; he reciprocated easily, cupping her bare ass with his hands.

"I _did_ go to Tokyo's most expensive private school though," Mikan revealed rather sheepishly.

"I thought so," He kissed the tip of her nose.

"I wish I went to the Alice Academy with you though," she pined, her tone light (but in her heart, she meant it—she wished she had been with him all her life).

"Oh, God no," Natsume shuddered at the prospect. "You would have hated me if you knew me then. I was a total dick. No one went through teenage angst like I did," he sniggered in self-deprecation, "I was always brooding; a complete grouch. And not to mention, the Academy had disgusting food. Half the building was falling apart too. Our library was in the school shed."

She thought of her school canteen that served filet steak and sashimi. Her school was Tokyo's oldest school, the campus grand and magnificent, rich in history. The library looked like the one at Hogwarts, like in the movies.

Despite this, she still insisted, "I don't care. I would have liked to be with you. And even if you _were_ a dick," (she doubted it—from all the stories she had heard from his friends and Aoi, it seemed like he was very stoic and withdrawn as a teenager, which often came across as animosity) "I'm sure you wouldn't have been one to me. You would have shown your nice side to _me_ and me only; I'm sure of it."

"Maybe," he coddled her fantasy, "maybe I would have had a soft spot just for you."

"So, can I keep the hoodie? Can that one be mine?"

He nodded. "You are now an alumna of Alice Academy," he decreed formally.

They cuddled; they whispered sweet nothings to each other; they softly kissed; they mused; they smiled, all in the comfort of their bed. Mikan's phone suddenly lit up the bedside table. Groaning, she rolled over to retrieve it. As expected, it was her PR manager with an update.

She looked at the new message.

Then, she told Natsume, "She's asking me whether I want to release a statement too," she turned to her boyfriend, "what do you think?"

"It's up to you," Natsume replied. He knew his answer was probably unhelpful, but he felt out of his depth to advise her correctly.

She pursed her lips in deep meditation.

"Why don't you ask your friends? Ask for their advice?" He was sure that they would know more about public relations than himself.

She had already called her two friends earlier today. Both Sumire and Hotaru _had_ advised her to release her own statement after Newman had broadcasted his. They both thought that her words on the matter would resolve and silence this matter once and for all. Mikan had always kept very quiet towards the media. She had never released a statement before (interviews were different), thinking it better to stay away from the circus. She never wanted to feed the lions anything; she always thought that they deserved to starve and that they should just speculate themselves to death. But perhaps her friends were right this time. This time, it indirectly concerned her relationship with Natsume. If she didn't kill this rumour once and for all, it might follow them.

"I think I will release a statement," Mikan decided. She put her phone down on the bedside table. She will write one tomorrow morning. Then, she looked at Natsume. She hesitated slightly before saying, "… You do understand that someday the world will know about you too, right? One day, you'll be known as Mikan Sakura's boyfriend."

He blinked. He had not considered this.

"I know that's the last thing you want… that _we_ want. I, for one, am scared that the world will try to divide us." She was looking at him so seriously, her eyes so clear, "But I think one day, be it in a year or ten, the public will know about us. It's inevitable."

"I'll be by your side when that happens," Natsume said; he was not trying to seem or act brave, he was just being simple and honest. "Besides, even if they found us out, they'd never _really_ know anything about us."

"That's right," Mikan softly said, appreciative of his words. But his words, she thought, were too innocent, too naïve. He had never encountered the wolves. He did not know of the wolves' savagery. She wanted to protect him from them, forever. Her heart thumped, apprehensive. "But… do you think I should still come to your conference? With the others?"

Natsume frowned at her question. He had not expected it. "Why shouldn't you?"

"Because," she struggled with her words, "if people knew about us then, then all your hard work would have been for nothing. They'll only focus on _us_ , our relationship, and suddenly your whole identity will be anchored to _mine_. They'll only see _me_ when they look at you. I don't want that for you. I don't want our relationship to compromise your independence or your academic integrity."

Natsume thought she was being very unfair to herself. "You're smart too," he reminded her, "you also graduated from Tokyo University. You've never and you will never compromise my 'academic integrity'."

"My reputation will," Mikan sadly said, her voice soft. "I know it. If we went public tomorrow, your future professorship might suffer. People will invade your life. They won't ask you about your research, instead, they'll ask you senseless questions about our relationships."

Her head was suddenly filled with horrible, imagined scenarios: Natsume, at his conference, asked about Mikan Sakura's favourite cereal brand instead of something relating to his research.

"You can still come, of course. They don't need to know why you're there," Natsume reassured her, "The other professors may not even notice. I think you underestimate how boring and ordinary we all are. Besides, you should do what you want to do; I would hate to see your decisions revolve around the media."

She snuggled against him, her breasts softly pressing against him. This whole situation today had made Mikan realize how _lucky_ they were that they had never been spotted or photographed together by the media whilst on a date. She was hugely relieved but at the same time, she couldn't believe how careless she had hitherto been with Natsume's life. She couldn't let her life take over his.

"I don't care what you decide, as long as I'm with you at the end of the night after the conference." Natsume softly added, "We can love in secret for our whole lives if you want. Whatever you think is best, I'll follow." He promised her.

"I'll go to the conference," she firmly settled, "with the others. I want to be there for you. It's one of your most important days. I'm not going to miss it. But I think that we should only consider going public after it, when we're ready, when we want to, on our own terms. If that is something we want someday."

He kissed her to show his consent to her decision.

* * *

On Sunday early morning, just as football practice was about to start, Natsume was surprised when all of his little young students ran up to him, crowding around him, their faces flushed in indignation.

"Coach Hyuuga! Coach Hyuuga!" They all twittered.

"Stop shouting—"

"We heard about Noel Newman!" Fujiyama exclaimed loudly, frowning deeply, his eyes ablaze, "And we all wanted to say that we _hate his guts!_ "

The teenage boys all roared in solidarity, beating at their chests like cavemen. They all snarled, and bellowed, feverishly chanting, "Newman is a dick! Newman is a dick!"

Natsume gaped, shocked. Luca didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Mikan had visited the team many times, always bringing snacks. All the teenagers took a great liking to Coach Hyuuga's girlfriend. But on her fourth visit, someone from the team had finally identified her Mikan Sakura. (Youichi had gawked in disbelief— _Hyuuga was dating someone famous?!_ His respect and admiration for Natsume Hyuuga practically imploded.) After that practice was over, Coach Hyuuga and Coach Nogi had gathered all the teammates to the stands. Natsume had beckoned at Mikan and she joined them all too. Then, the three adults had all beseeched the teenagers to keep this information between themselves. Immediately, the boys decided to _swear an oath_ , and put their hands on their hearts (Mikan had thought this to be very sweet, but very funny). From then, the coaches trusted them with this information—they knew that they were all good boys who put heavy emphasis on loyalty and comradeship. As Youichi had once said, they'd rather die than betray each other (later on, Mikan had laughed very heartily about this, commenting that they all acted like little samurais).

"We hate Arsenal! We hate Arsenal!" the teenagers sang manically, stamping their feet in sync. It was like a battle cry.

To show their loyalty to Natsume, some zealously shouted, "We burnt our Arsenal merchandise to show our support to you, Coach Hyuuga!"

"Noel has small hands!"

"Coach Hyuuga, I destroyed my Arsenal shirt—"

Luca blew his whistle. "Enough!"

Youichi got one last insult in, "Noel's shit. She'd never leave you for that shithead."

Luca glared at his impudence.

Natsume, however, roared with laughter. "Mikan's gonna love this when I tell her…"

* * *

That same day, late in the afternoon, Mikan's PR team finally published a statement on her behalf, keen to wrap up the events of the week swiftly.

 _Mikan Sakura would like to address the recent invasion of her private life: she confirms that she has never met Noel Newman and that she is absolutely not dating him. She would also like the public to know that she has never liked English breakfast and that she is a hundred percent certain that she never will._

Youichi, who had just read this statement on the train, looked up from his phone with a victoriously smug grin.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter sums up my view of social media and tabloid journalism. My friend works for a PR company and a lot of this is my reaction towards some of the stories she tells me (COS LET ME TELL YA… celebrity life is so odd/completely out of touch from my understanding of reality). I've always found celeb worship to be very odd too… I understand liking someone's acting or singing… but to then revolve your life around it? Eh? (But each to their own, I guess; as long as you're not hurting anyone/offending other artists to "better" your own fave etc…) Oh, and _The Moon_ and _The Daily Fail_ are based on two (very evil, in my opinion) newspaper journals in the U.K. (very, very thinly disguised here lol) that thrive off gossip and scandal, all whilst dividing the country with racist, sensationalist spew.

Noel Newman does not exist.

Review replies:

 **GAwriter** : Thank you for your review! Glad this made you all gooey, haha.  
 **Cassie Sharpie** : Again, thank you for all your dedicated reviews! I'm glad you found humour in Aoi's words. :)  
 **Fujoshi Mariem** : I'm glad you're enjoying my updates! Thanks for the review.  
 **reader131313** : Glad you're loving it! Thanks for the review.  
 **Wednesday Wildheart** : Thanks for your review! I feel you must already be in Saturday now, whoops, sorry! I live in the EU (well, soon not to-be EU, lol) so I am trailing behind you in time… I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!  
 **April Twelving** : Hey, thanks for the review. Glad you're enjoying it.  
 **Flaming Milcute** : Thanks for your review! Sadly, I don't have any intention to make this Luca x Hotaru. I'm glad you liked Natsume and Hotaru's mutual respect for each other!

 **I am not updating this weekend. Also, I want to tweak the story a bit (alter the ending ever so slightly), so for now, chapter-uploads are on hold (until everything flows well, makes sense with the new ending). I will probably update early next week.**

Till then!


	13. Multiverse

**A/N** : I don't own Gakuen Alice.

 **Chapter Thirteen: Multiverse**

* * *

November was coming to an end. December was around the corner. But before the Christmas spirit and celebration fell, Natsume's birthday came.

On the 27th of November, Natsume turned 25.

How strange to be half of 50! How odd to be a quarter of 100!

These were the thoughts that came to mind when he woke up. Mikan made him breakfast and brought it to bed. She peppered him with kisses, perhaps one or two more than usual, but soon, he had to get up. Birthday or not, he still had to go to the office. His conference was in two days; his birthday couldn't halt or delay his preparations. Mikan groaned and mumbled a bit, wishing he would stay a moment or two longer with her in bed. Instead, he kissed her forehead and told her that he would see her at dinner tonight.

Luca had organized a birthday dinner for Natsume at a traditional Japanese restaurant. He had booked a private room in the back of the restaurant, and by his conspiring, coy smiles, Natsume guessed that he had invited some others along too.

"Seven o'clock," Mikan reminded him, "don't be late!"

* * *

It was a long day. Jinno was nervous about the upcoming presentation, and his nerves had affected Natsume that day. Birthday or not, shit happens.

At 6:45, he was finally making his way over to the restaurant. He stifled his yawns as he sat on the train, one hand rubbing his sore, stiff neck.

He arrived at the restaurant at 7:10; he said his name and the waitress immediately led him through the corridors, past the other private rooms to the one furthest away. She politely bowed and left Natsume to open the door.

As soon as he opened the door, Natsume shut his eyes; party poppers exploded and a large chorus of happy birthdays rang shrilly in the air. He cracked an eye open—immediately, Mikan was flying into his arms. He caught her around the waist.

"Happy birthday!" she wished again, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. She was beaming up at him. "How was your day?"

"Better now," he said, gazing down at her; then, he looked at everyone else in the room. Mikan untangled herself and also looked towards the guests with a bright smile. There, in the room, sat Koko, Mochu, Luca, his father, Aoi—he expected them all—and two others. Jii-chan sat next to Mr. Hyuuga, but more surprisingly, his manager, Narumi, sat next to Luca.

Natsume looked at the two unexpected guests in surprise. "Jii-chan, Naru,"

"Happy birthday, my boy," Jii-chan said, inclining his head slightly. He looked very proud. Naru enthusiastically waved at Natsume.

Narumi's eyes were neither questioning nor interrogative; instead, they were rather impartial—pleased, even. Natsume was sure that Narumi was, no doubt, surprised when he found out that Natsume and Mikan were dating (however he found out), but he did not display these emotions.

"Sit!" Mikan said, pulling him to the head of the table, and like his queen, she sat beside him on his left.

They had already ordered food and drinks. Now the birthday boy was here, everyone raised a glass and toasted to his 25th year; the speeches began (Koko kicked it off with a hearty, "It was 25 years ago when a grumpy sod came to this world…"); and before anyone could tuck into the food, presents were flooding before him.

"Thank you," Natsume said, taking Jii-chan's small gift. It was wrapped in deep, green paper. "You didn't have to— _shit,_ " at that precise moment, Mochu threw his present towards Natsume; his alert peripheral vision meant that he managed to catch it before it smacked against his face, "Mochu, you idiot—"

"Incoming!" Koko yelled as he launched his present at Natsume too. It nearly slipped out his fingers, but he thankfully managed to catch that too. He looked deeply unimpressed.

Aoi cackled as she high-fived the two friends, "Nice,"

"Anyone else gonna throw something at me?" Natsume asked, "If you're tempted, just give me a five-second warning,"

"Here, have this, from us to you!" Aoi cheerfully said, passing around a silver envelope from her father and her. "Happy birthday, onii-chan!"

Ioran pleasantly wished his son felicitation once again.

Narumi, then Luca also passed their cards and presents to Natsume.

"Thanks," Natsume said, but before he could further express his gratitude, Koko childishly demanded that he open all his presents then and there.

He indulged Koko's wishes; seeing his friends and family made him feel very safe and comforted, especially after such a long day. Jii-chan had bought him a pocket watch; Narumi, a cookbook; Luca, expensive headphones; Koko, a fancy bottle of whiskey; Mochu, a new pair of Adidas trainers and his family had presented him with two two-day one-night all-inclusive tickets to the hot springs in the south.

As Natsume thanked each and every one for their thoughts and gifts, Mikan carefully gathered all of his presents together, transferring them all safely into a large, paper bag that she had prepared beforehand. When she was done, she turned and said, "My present for you is at home,"

Immediately, Mochu and Koko looked at each other with eyebrows raised before they nudged each other suggestively; then, the howling and wolf-whistling began. "Kinky, Mikan! Kinky!"

" _Ugh_ , family in the room!" Aoi cried, mildly disgruntled and obviously disgusted.

Mikan blushed, "I didn't mean like _that_ —"

Ioran bellowed with laughter. Seeing his son and Mikan made him miss his wife so much—not in a painful, aching way, but in a serene, nostalgic way. He was positive that Kaoru would have absolutely adored Mikan; she would have especially approved of Mikan's thoughtful and loving treatment of their son.

The conversation continued as the sharing platter was passed around. They all talked together, sometimes amongst in twos, but the bountiful chatter continued as the food on the plates steadily depleted.

"So, how did you invite Naru?" Natsume suddenly asked, looking at Luca. "I didn't know you knew him."

"I invited him," Mikan piped up beside him; she looked over at Narumi and explained, "I bumped into Naru-chan early this afternoon in Mitsukoshi."

"I was _beyond_ thrilled," Narumi chimed in, winking, "for I hadn't seen darling Mikan in such a long while!"

"I invited him then and there on the spot!" She added. "You always spoke warmly of Naru-chan!"

Rather bashfully, Natsume said, "You must have been surprised when Mikan invited you to my birthday dinner," he looked directly into his eyes.

Narumi hummed enigmatically, but then, he admitted, "I suppose I'm more surprised at the fact that you didn't tell me you were dating Mikan!"

"I didn't know how to bring it up," his tone was apologetic.

Koko interrupted, "Narumi-san, count yourself lucky. Ever since he's been with her, all _we_ hear is 'Mikan this, Mikan that'. You have been spared by the gods."

The conversation soon turned away from the topic, but a few minutes later, everyone still busy with chatter and food, Narumi inconspicuously turned to Luca and rather quietly questioned, "So, since when have they been dating?"

"Uh," Luca paused, thinking, "it's been a while now. End of January, I think?"

Narumi was shocked to hear this. January was when he had asked Natsume to deliver Mikan's purse back to her. That night was nearly a year ago. He couldn't believe that that night might have started and culminated in all of _this_. He looked over at them—Mikan, rosy with laughter, and Natsume basking in her radiance. He saw the little details too; the way she kept touching his arm, his meaningful glances, only meant for her…

Narumi understood why Mikan had stopped coming to _Goemon_. He also understood why Natsume hadn't told him about her.

They were in love.

Yet Narumi felt uneasy. It had nothing to do with Natsume concealing this information away from him. He saw no fault there. If anything, Narumi was concerned _for_ Natsume. The two had been dating since January… but two months ago, at _Goemon_ , from the very mouths of Mr. Yukihara and Mr. Andou, he had heard something very different confirmed by them, when he asked after their children…

Narumi pressed his lips together. The heavy weight of this information was a burden to his heart. He was more than sure Natsume had no idea about it. He also knew that this information was not his story to divulge.

This was something Mikan had to tell Natsume.

Narumi could only hope that Mikan knew what she was doing; praying that Natsume didn't get hurt along the way.

* * *

The birthday party ended with more wishes and warm kisses.

Jii-chan left before anyone, citing his early bedtime.

Narumi accepted a ride from Ioran, and with Aoi, climbed into the family car. His friends were loitering on the corner of the street—they were all determined to take a taxi back to their respective homes, wanting an escape from the blistering November winds. Mikan and Natsume too stood beside them, waiting for a taxi.

Soon enough, one by one, all his friends left.

Finally, Koko got in his cab. Before he shut the door, with a mischievous wink, he called, "Let me know what sugar-mama got you! I want all the obscene details!"

Natsume just shook his head warily, rolling his eyes, "You're going straight to hell, Koko."

"Hah! See ya there!"

* * *

When they arrived home, Mikan grabbed both his hands, and looking at him, she dragged him towards the bedroom.

"I'm taking you to your present," she mysteriously explained, her eyes gleaming.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? The bedroom? So Mochu and Koko were right?"

Mikan laughed. "Well, you're definitely having _me_ but that comes later," she lightly said, "before that… taaa-daaa!" She flung her arms in the direction of their bed, her hands shimmying, her fingers fluttering.

He blinked.

On their bed, Mikan had laid out a brand-new, designer suit for him: a black jacket and trousers; a crisp, white shirt; a red tie. From the cut and fabric alone, Natsume knew it was not just any old suit. Every piece was rich with refinement; visually, it conveyed authority. It was impressive, no doubt about that… but… but…

Natsume hesitated. He had no idea what to say or do.

Mikan had not noticed the slight change in his expression and stance. Instead, she excitably gushed, "Do you like it? I think you'll look so handsome in it! I heard you speaking on the phone to your dad about the conference, and you mentioned that you needed a suit for it, so I—"

"Mikan," he interrupted; finally, she observed his countenance, "I can't accept this."

She stopped dead. Immediately, her excitement washed clean. "Oh… you don't like it?"

"No, I do… it's just… I can't accept all this. Mikan," rather weakly, he motioned at it—now, he even saw that she had bought him a matching pair of smart Italian shoes. "The suit, tie and shoes… it's too much."

She didn't say anything. Her face was now completely devoid of emotion, but her mind was racing, absolutely bewildered, still unsure whether or not to be offended by his tepid reaction.

"Why can't you accept my present?" she finally asked, desperate for clarification.

"Mikan… this probably cost you—"

She stepped away from him. Hastily, she interjected, "Who cares how much it cost me? It's your birthday!"

"I care," Natsume said. "I—"

Mikan's hurt now morphed into anger. "Did you ask how much Luca spent on his gift to you?"

"No, but—"

"But what?" She demanded, her eyes blazing. "What's the difference?"

"Well, clearly the budget is very different."

Her mouth fell open. She had not expected him to react in this way at all. She had not expected him to reject her birthday present so carelessly. But her shock soon dissipated, returning back to anger.

"So what! So what if my budget is slightly larger than—"

"Slightly?" Natsume repeated, incredulous. "Mikan, all this probably cost you over—"

"I didn't leave the price tag on there. I don't want you to think about the cost. This is my birthday gift to you. And like every other gift you received tonight, I want you to accept this gift wholeheartedly, without thinking about the money that bought it." His expression did not change. Frustrated, she cried, "I wish you would stop thinking about the _price_ —"

"I don't… I don't want you to… you know…"

Her eyes urged him to continue, to _explain_ , but he failed to do so. Instead, he averted his gaze away from her.

So, she picked up all the pieces, determined to reach a conclusion.

"What? You don't want me to what?" Her tone was still demanding; she couldn't help it—he had really hurt her feelings with his quick dismissal and absolute refusal. "You don't want me to buy you gifts? Is that it? Why? Because you don't want people to think I'm your 'sugar-mama'? Or because you don't want people to think that you're only with me for my money? Which one is it?"

"Mikan—"

"Which _one_ , Natsume? Are you worried about how this will 'look'? How it looks for a woman to buy her man an expensive suit? Well, you know what? Stop thinking about all that, _please!_ I understand why you got upset about the tuition. Truly—I understand you perfectly. I understand your determination to fund yourself and your sister. That day, when I suggested otherwise, I was in the wrong. But _this_ and _that_ are completely different. _This_ is me spoiling you on your birthday. _This_ is me giving you something with love. I'd rather you hated it and exchanged it than not accept it at all! You won't accept it! Will you ever let me buy you anything, birthday or not? You never let me spoil you. _Never._ Did you ever think that perhaps I _want_ to spoil you? Why won't you let me?"

Natsume rose to defend himself. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Not to me it's not!"

Natsume finally gave in, baring the anxieties that had been gnawing at his heart. "It's because _I_ can't spoil you the same way! I can't spoil you back. I will _never_ be able to buy you something of this calibre! Never!" He exhaled heavily, meeting her gaze. "Don't you understand how that makes me feel? I want to buy you gifts every day. But I can't afford to."

She acknowledged his insecurity, but she could not let it hurt her. It explained his actions succinctly, but it did not justify them. It was not fair that her feelings had to be hurt so his would remain intact.

"But I _can!_ I can afford to! Just as you yearn to buy me gifts, I wish to do the same! But you won't let me! You've never let me! Is it because I'm a woman and you're a man? This society doesn't bat its eyelashes when rich, old men buy young woman gifts for God's sake! But I, your _equal_ , your _girlfriend_ am not allowed to buy you something because you're too concerned about your insecurities?"

"Mikan! I live in _your_ flat—"

"It's _your_ flat!" Then, rather alarmed, she retracted this statement, "I mean, it's _our_ flat! You pay half the bills! You pay for groceries!"

It was like a verbal tennis match. Relentlessly, they were verbally sparring, interrupting and throwing words at each other, tossing the denunciations and pain backwards and forwards.

"I don't want to be dependent on you—"

"You're _not!_ " She finally shouted, so hurt, so upset, so angry. Would they never see eye to eye on this? "You're not dependent on me! And me buying you a present, a _birthday_ present, doesn't rob you of your independence!"

He didn't toss words back at her. He faltered, letting the ball roll away pathetically. He looked away from her heated gaze, feeling it burn him.

Disgruntled and utterly frustrated, Mikan resignedly snapped, "Fine! Fine." She threw a stinging glare his way. She gathered all the pieces of the suit in her arms; hanging them on one arm before she swooped down to grab the new shoes in her other hand. "I'll return them all!"

"Mikan—"

"In the meantime," she fiercely interrupted, "have _this._ " With her foot, she knocked a wrapped-up rectangular shaped object that sat at the foot of their bed. "You'll be happy to know that _this_ cost next to nothing. So don't worry, your independence is safe and completely intact."

Seething, deeply hurt, and now desperate to get away from him before she lost to her tears, Mikan feverishly left their bedroom.

Away from Natsume, Mikan's tears came. Defiantly, she wiped them away. She knew that she was not in the wrong. She knew that Natsume could be stubborn, but never had his stubbornness hurt her like this. Her heart _ached_. All the thoughts she had put into her gift, thinking about what cut and colours would suit Natsume had all been a huge waste of time.

She dumped the suit on the sofa, dropping the shoes on the floor too. She sat down on the sofa, beside the rejected suit, ready to fold all the pieces up to pack them away.

She thought of the multiverse. She wondered whether if in some parallel universe, Natsume Hyuuga and Mikan Sakura were dating, but there, in that universe, Natsume Hyuuga was rich and wealthy and Mikan Sakura was not so. She was sure that this rich Natsume Hyuuga would have always bought her gifts. So why couldn't _this_ Mikan Sakura, _herself_ here and now, do the same? He said it wasn't, but to her, it _did_ feel like a gendered issue. When they were out and about together, at times, she saw the ways his eyes sometimes longingly lingered on certain things (be it trainers or books) but if she so much as suggested that she buy them for him, he would always recoil and refuse. At every turn, he blocked her. She wasn't asking to spoil him rotten: she just wished she could treat him from time to time.

Her mind turned to all the women in her circle who proudly wore diamonds, sapphires and rubies, all gifted to them from their sugar daddies, around their necks, dangling brazenly on their chests. But here she was with a boyfriend, someone she loved and someone who loved her back, who flat-out refused to accept, let alone _wear_ her gift.

Her anger was slowly simmering. Now, rather despondently, she packed away her unwanted present.

Meanwhile, Natsume sat on his side of the bed.

In the room, a deafening silent buzz rung, cold and devoid of anything. This silence felt louder than Mikan's defiance.

All the exhaustion from the day returned, burdening Natsume's shoulders, but his disagreement with Mikan sunk his heart. He felt very hollow. He wanted to apologize, but he was frozen in this eerie silence after the battle. His pride stopped him from chasing after her.

His downcast eyes found her second present on the floor.

Slowly, he picked it up. As quietly as he could, he unwrapped it and soon, the night sky appeared before him.

Mikan had framed an A3-sized print of the sky: different constellations decorated the inky northern hemisphere. At the bottom, in the corner, he spotted Mikan's handwriting: 7th January 2017.

He was bewildered. Curious, too. Holding this framed print and picking up his courage, Natsume stood up and walked towards the living room. There, he saw her folding the white shirt. She glanced up at him (her expression still rather stony), before looking back down at the shirt.

Natsume moved closer to her. As softly and kindly as he could, he asked, "What's this?" He held out the print.

She did not take it. She rebelliously shifted away, but she did respond: she grumbled, "It's the sky from the night we met."

"What?"

Mikan huffed, still determined to show her anger. "I found this site. You put a date in and it shows you what the sky looked like on that exact night at a certain time from a certain place."

Natsume blinked. He looked at the print again. "So… so this is—"

"January 7th, yes."

"The night we met…"

"Yes." Then, Mikan added, "Sumire and Hotaru both said that you'd probably hate it. Hotaru said that the site is probably inaccurate and that you'd probably end up correcting it. Sumire said that it's a waste of money. They both agreed that it's nothing but sentimental drivel."

She still refused to look at him. Obstinately, she continued folding.

Natsume looked at the poster again. But he wasn't looking for mistakes or discrepancies. Instead, he found all the feelings Mikan had been trying so hard to give to him.

She had put in so much thought for his gifts. The night sky and the suit; the suit that she had picked out and specifically chosen in hopes that he would wear it to his most important evening, to his conference about the universe. And yet he had tossed away her feelings so carelessly, casting her gifts aside, thinking only of his own feelings.

He ached.

Carefully, he placed the framed print on the coffee table, before he sat beside her on the sofa. Her back was turned to him. Tentatively, he touched her waist. She let him. So, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. He softly, chastely kissed her neck.

"I'm sorry. You're right. It's my…" He swallowed his pride. "I know that this is something that I need to work on. It's my pride. I keep thinking that you pity me and that's why you're so lovely to me. But I know that's not true. I just sometimes have these thoughts because I'm scared. Some part of me doesn't believe that I'm worthy of you. And I hate the way that my mind sometimes turns this way because I know that's not true and that's just my insecurities making shit up. I'm sorry."

Her tense shoulders had loosened.

Natsume burrowed his face in the nook of her neck. "I'm so sorry. Don't return it," his fingers softly held the shirt before her, "I'll wear it. I _want_ to wear it. Thank you for your gifts. For all of them."

He felt her move in his arms. He removed his head from her neck and let her turn around. Finally, she faced him. He looked at her face: her vulnerability and hurt were bare to him. Then, tenderly, she embraced him.

"I love your gifts," he reaffirmed.

"You do?"

"Yes." He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Mikan. I'm sorry…"

"I don't want to take away your independence," on the last word, her voice broke and she started to cry, "That's the last thing I ever want to do."

"I know," He held her closer, tighter.

"I respect your independence, Natsume. But you make sure, at every turn, to never depend on me," she cried, "Even when _I_ depend on you so much. I wish you would lean on me sometimes. And I _wish_ I could banish those insecurities from your mind, once and for all. I never want you to feel that you're not worthy of me."

He let her cry, feeling wretched that he had made her cry tonight.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted." Natsume reiterated. "I was wrong. I ruined everything." He wanted to cry too, for he had single-handedly butchered what had been a wonderful evening, so quickly, so inconsiderately…

But she met his words with kindness. "I love you," she was still sobbing, but she said those words as steadily as she could, "I love you so much, Natsume. I'm so glad that I met you. I'm so glad that you were born into this world. I love you with all my heart."

He cradled her, "Mikan…"

"Do you…" she cleared her throat, "do you think that if Narumi didn't give you my purse that night, we would have met? Is there a universe out there, existing alongside ours, where we didn't meet? Or one where we met somewhere else?"

Natsume smiled; he wasn't too surprised or thrown off-course by her question. He had extensively explained the theory of the multiverse only a few days prior to her after all.

"Don't think too much of the multiverse. It's not good to dwell on endless possibilities and trajectories."

"But do you have faith that we would have been together, no matter what, wherever and whenever?"

Natsume shrugged. As gently as he could, he said, "I mean, it's nice to think that we would have met and fallen in love elsewhere, regardless of circumstances, just because it's _us_. Maybe in another universe, I might have waited on your table at _Goemon_ and met you then. Maybe that could have been our beginning. Or perhaps in another parallel universe I might have bumped into you when we were teenagers. But that doesn't matter. What matters is, that out of infinite possibilities and outcomes, in our universe, in our reality, we found and chose each other. In this moment, we're together. We've beaten all the odds. So, this reality is perfectly enough for me."

Mikan considered his words silently. Her hands mindlessly caressed his hair. Then, she decided, "You're right. I don't want another reality."

Soon, they retreated to bed. Despite it being his birthday, Natsume did not have and consume Mikan passionately. Instead, they stayed up very late talking to each in bed, looking at each other, marvelling silently at the depth and rawness of their feelings towards each other. They cuddled, spooned, and finally, with Natsume leaning on Mikan's chest, they fell asleep.

* * *

 **A/N** : I'm sorry for the delayed update—I've been rather poorly. The next chapter will come soon (it'll be about the much-awaited conference). Until then!


	14. Mid-Air

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Fourteen: Mid-Air**

* * *

On Wednesday, Natsume woke up before the sun rose. It was the 29th of November, the day of the Japanese Astronomical Conference. Today, hopefully, would be the first step of his career. If all went well, tonight could launch his future into success.

As he lay in bed, quiet, breathing shallowly, Natsume felt ill with nerves. The pit of his stomach felt constricted, painfully tight, as if someone was clenching it with an iron fist.

He stared into the darkness. His mind went over his schedule methodically, but that didn't help: his nerves only swelled in doing so.

And so, Natsume focused instead on Mikan's breath. Beside him, she slept softly, breathing steadily. He meditated on her reassuring words last night; kindly, she had whispered to him that everything was going to be okay.

"Try to see yourself from my perspective, Natsume," she had said to him, stroking his cheek, as they faced each other in bed, the dim glow of the bed lamps casting romantic shadows across the planes of their faces, "You're going to be more than okay."

He closed his eyes, and his hands instinctively reached for her under their duvet. He sidled closer to her, securing an arm across her stomach. He pressed his front against her back, interlocked his legs with hers, and burrowed his face against her hair. Physically, he almost felt as if he were pinned to her. Emotionally, he almost felt like a little child again. She stirred a little but soon returned to peace. He followed her there.

* * *

He woke three hours later: Mikan, her hand on his bicep, was gently telling him the time. He opened his eyes. She was smiling down at him, her hair falling, nearly touching his face.

"Did you sleep okay?"

He made a non-committal noise in response that neither said yes or no. But Mikan could read between the lines when it came to Natsume.

Understandingly, she stroked his hair by his temple. For now, she didn't say anything. She knew that, sometimes, silence articulated things that words could never convey. She let him be: she let him think, let him worry, and let him pick himself up.

Finally, she asked, "Do you want breakfast?"

Finally, he spoke. "Yeah. Please."

She stood up straight and then pulled him up from their bed.

* * *

Natsume's nerves remained but diluted as the morning passed. He had to go into university to finalize everything with Professor Jinno, to make sure his presentation was absolutely perfect before giving the all clear.

"I'll be back around four," Natsume told Mikan, as he pulled his trainers on by the front door. At four, he would be back to change into his suit: the suit that Mikan had got for his birthday two days ago.

"Alright," Mikan nodded, "I'll be here."

"Good," He smiled at her, and kissed her a brief but sweet goodbye.

* * *

Natsume had arrived back home slightly earlier than expected. By four, he was standing in the bedroom, as Mikan slowly circled him, humming contemplatively.

She returned and stood before him, and checked him out from top to bottom.

Then, she beamed brightly.

"You look so handsome!" She gushed, her voice higher than usual. She couldn't control her little claps, as she bounced up on her toes. She felt so happy to see him wearing the suit she had chosen for him. It fit him so well; he looked so smart in it.

Natsume raised his eyebrow at her squeals, but he couldn't help the smile that sprung from the corner of his lips. He tried his best to hide his bashfulness. He relished her approval.

"You think?"

Vigorously, Mikan nodded before laughter uncontrollably spilt from her mouth. She felt like an excited child, pure and triumphant.

He had put on the suit himself, but she had helped with his cufflinks and tie.

"No, no," she had tutted, as she watched him knot his tie, "that's no good. Let me," without fuss, he let her. "See?" She patted his chest once she was done. "This is a Windsor knot. Much smarter."

He was impressed. And now, she told him to sit down so she could sort out his hair. Trusting her, he complied. He knew that this was her domain, not his: she knew the do's and don't's of smart attire.

"At school, they made the girls wear ties too," she explained her talent, as she combed through his hair. "From age _three_."

"Private schools are so weird," he sniggered.

She chortled. "I know. I'm pretty sure I can do it with my eyes closed."

Natsume hummed. "I'll take you up on that. After all, we haven't used ties in the bedroom yet," he smirked.

"Oh, my pleasure," Mikan promised him, grinning widely, "I'll wrap you up like a present."

"Can't wait."

She combed his hair back. No longer did it fall on his eyes. She gazed deeply at him, admiring his clean-shaven face. She mapped every detail. Finally, she smiled.

"You're done, Natsume. You look great."

She was utterly sincere. She didn't know why, but she felt almost teary seeing him like this. It was so more than just his good looks: she just felt overwhelmed by him. So much of his study and work had been leading up to this day. And to see him, ready, with his armour (suit) on, she felt exceedingly proud.

Mikan now pulled him to the full-length mirror; upon seeing himself, Natsume cocked his head to the side. One eyebrow was slightly raised in surprise. He was not used to seeing himself so scrubbed up, clean, with his hair pushed back like so.

"What do you think?" Mikan asked, staring at his reflection too.

He looked at her. Then, nonchalantly, he shrugged. "You still look better."

Mikan snorted; she could hear the teasing in his tone. She was wearing nothing but the Alice Academy hoodie.

"Strange," Natsume then mused, as he looked back at the mirror, "usually it's the other way around. Usually, it's me in a hoodie, helping you zip up your dress."

Affectionately, she smiled. "I prefer it this way around." His words brought something to mind. "Do you want to see my dress?"

"Sure," he turned to follow her; quickly, she wrenched open the wardrobe and pulled out a warm, burgundy dress. It was a smart Bardot-style, midi dress. The material was thick. She held it up for him to see.

He noticed it was the exact same shade as his tie. At that moment, he was certain that this was no coincidence.

"Do you like it?"

Once again, Natsume understood the depth of Mikan's consideration when it came to his present. She put a lot of thought in choosing a suit that fitted him so perfectly, and now, he saw that she had chosen a matching dress for herself.

"I do," he affirmed, "we'll be matching." He pulled the dress to his tie. The red was identical.

"It's the little things that matter," Mikan answered, grinning happily.

Natsume now felt very brave. Mikan's kindness had incited a strong surge of courage, hope and faith. It was strange; he hadn't left her side yet, and yet he already missed her: a sweet ache gripped his chest.

She put her dress on the bed and moved towards him again. She simply just fiddled with his collar, straightening out imaginary wrinkles. Right then, in that moment, they were all that mattered. The small touches, the gentle smiles exchanged, the tenderness of it all left them hanging mid-air, suspended, in their own world.

"My dad said he'll secure three seats for you," Natsume informed Mikan half an hour later.

Mikan had just pushed her hair back; she was contemplating what eyeshadow would best compliment her eyes and dress. She turned to look at him.

"Alright," she nodded, "we'll probably enter the hall in the very last minute. We don't want to take any attention away from astronomy," by 'we', Mikan meant her two friends and herself.

"With Aoi in the room, that's probably for the best," Natsume joked, shaking his head slightly. His sister was exorbitantly excited to meet Sumire Shouda and Hotaru Imai tonight, so much so that Natsume was certain that her excitement eclipsed her feelings towards her brother's presentation. He didn't mind, of course.

"She can meet them afterwards," Mikan reiterated kindly.

Natsume was due to leave their flat in ten minutes. He was to go to the conference hall early with Jinno. Mikan and her friends would reconvene with Natsume's friends and family there, and then all together, they planned to go out for dinner afterwards to celebrate, somewhere in Ginza that Sumire had booked.

Mikan pushed out an eyeshadow palette before him. "Which colour?"

Natsume was always quite good at choosing colours. He inspected all the different shades thoughtfully, glanced at her face, before picking out two.

He pointed out two colours. "These two. Together."

"Ooh. Very nice. Thanks," she liked the colours he picked. He really did have an eye for these things.

He loitered longer than he should have, inconsequentially looking at her jewellery box, playing with glistening bracelets, opulent necklaces and tinkering earrings. He just wanted to be close. She didn't send him away, but watched over him, patiently waiting for him to stand.

Soon, Natsume left. As she bid him good luck, she kissed him. Her hand tightly gripped his; with warmth and strength, her hands told him it was going to be more than okay. He promised he'd find her in the audience.

* * *

The stuffy hello's, the murmuring meaningless small talk, the quiet waiters, the soft clinks of wine glasses, the big room, the many chairs, and the podium erected in the centre.

Natsume stood close by Jinno, introducing himself politely and formally to any person Jinno pulled their way. Most of them were highly coveted astrophysicists, professors from all over the country and beyond. Only five minutes ago he had introduced himself to Professor Serina Yamada of Osaka University, one of his favourite researchers in the field. She had expressed her interest in his work, complimenting his genius at such a young age, before she rather candidly remarked that he was restoring her faith in the 'degenerate millennial generation'. Natsume thought she was very cool, and so, he couldn't help but grin like a small boy when she patted him on the shoulder, wishing him good luck.

Then, from his peripheral vision, Natsume saw his friends and family on the other side of the hall. He pointed them out to Jinno and was about to excuse himself to go to them, but Jinno insisted in joining him.

"It would rude of me not to introduce myself to your father," he said.

So, together, they made their way across the hall.

Koko spotted him first. "Natsume! Oh, shit! You look so smart!"

Immediately, they all turned in his direction, and all their faces similarly lit up.

"Wow, onii-chan!" Aoi looked so excited. "I love this look! This is so much better than your usual get-up."

He thought she looked very pretty. She was wearing a smart black dress, and her hair was gently curled at the ends. When she made a move towards him, he opened his arms to receive and embrace his little sister.

"Don't hug me too tight!" Aoi squeaked, "You'll wrinkle your suit!"

"It's my big night. I can do what I want," Natsume replied, his arrogant tone masking his relief in finding his family and friends. He hugged his little sister tighter, seeking comfort.

"Excited, Natsume?" His father asked, his kind eyes understanding. He easily picked up on his son's nerves, despite his excellent poker face.

Natsume nodded, his smile slightly tight.

"But jeez," Mochu marvelled, "that suit fits you like a glove. It makes ours look like a high school uniform. "

"Mikan called me, you know," his father revealed, "about a month ago. She called and asked me for your exact size."

Natsume did not know about this. Once again, his heart wept, remembering how he had initially rejected her present. His heart pined, yet again, to see her, to cherish her, to thank her for everything she does for him.

As he spoke to Luca, Jinno and his father finally acquainted themselves with one another.

"So, Mochu said we're all going to a bar in Ginza afterwards to celebrate?"

He nodded, clarifying, "I'm not sure what it's called. Shouda's booked it." He suddenly felt Aoi squirm beside him—he had her arm draped around her shoulder, so he immediately felt it. He looked down at her. "Don't worry; Mikan's probably asked Shouda to book somewhere with a private room in the back. You'll be able to get in."

Aoi, after all, still was not allowed to drink alcohol according to the Japanese law.

"They won't be fussed once they see Mikan, Sumire and Imai-san anyway," Koko piped up, "when you're famous, you get away with anything."

"It's not _that_ ," Aoi responded, "I'm not worried about that. I know Mikan'll get me in. Besides, dad's okay with it."

"I think I know what's on your mind," Luca smiled perceptively. "You're nervous to meet Shouda-san and Imai-san."

Luca had observed the way she would, now and again, crane her neck, scanning the hall and the way she would often smoothen her dress, and touch her hair.

Natsume saw that Luca was right. He then noticed that she was wearing the red lipstick Mikan had given her all those months ago, the one from Sumire's collection. He felt a wave of affection for his silly little sister.

"If I didn't know better, you're here for them, not for me." He teased her. She lightly smacked his arm in retaliation. "But don't expect to meet them until after it's over," he told her, "Mikan texted a few minutes ago—they're already here. They're waiting in a car outside. They won't come in until the very last minute."

"What! Why?" Aoi asked, pouting.

"They don't want to attract attention away from Natsume," Luca kindly explained.

Then, Jinno tapped Natsume's free arm. "Natsume, they want us up front. It's about to start."

Natsume nodded. He turned back to his friends and family. He exhaled deeply.

They all gathered around him and proceeded to wish him good luck.

As he walked away from them, very quickly he fished his phone from his pocket and sent Mikan a message, _Starting in five._

She immediately replied back, _We'll be there in three. Good luck!_

Three minutes later, the lights dimmed, and Natsume saw three figures making they way over towards the front, towards his father who was kindly beckoning Mikan in their direction. His eyes followed Mikan. Her hair was all up. She looked very elegant. Quietly, without causing any commotion, the three sat down beside his friends and family, near the front, perfectly in his view.

Mikan smiled at him. She mouthed a hello. He discreetly mouthed a hello back. She beamed.

He also saw the way Aoi was craning her neck in Mikan's direction, almost as if she was trying to metamorphose into a swan. Luca, who was sitting next to her, patted her shoulder very gently.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 49th Japanese Astrological Conference…" after this introduction, it would be his turn to present his thesis.

Natsume breathed deeply.

Although his stomach was clenching, twisting nervously, his heart and mind told him that he was going to be okay.

* * *

Mikan's eyes did not leave Natsume as he spoke. She felt entranced by him. Sometimes he would glance in her direction; whenever she did, the corners of her lips would turn upwards automatically.

She listened to his steady voice, felt his words. She watched the way his lips moved. He stood in the spotlight, the centre of everyone's attention. And honestly? He looked as if he were born to stand there, in the centre, everything else orbiting him. He was so smart. She remembered all those days, afternoons and nights that he had spent in his office, researching, and how sometimes he'd come back home only to study more. His shoulders were always tense, and he always had knots in his neck. She often worried about his health. All the time he had dedicated to this very moment, to this very research, to this presentation.

She couldn't possibly articulate how proud she felt. Words would fail her.

She thinks about how his name will continue throughout history with his research. In academia, his name will last. His work will inspire the next generation of physicists. His work will fill libraries. He's Natsume Hyuuga, and in the years to come, anyone who knows anything will know his name, and even if they don't quite fully understand the physics, they'll know of his contributions.

She thought of her name: Mikan Sakura is but a fleeting name. It will one day be ravaged by time. Her name will fade with her beauty. Considering her fame rests so much on her youth, it will inevitably disintegrate as the years pass, just like it had done to all the other socialites that had come and gone throughout time. She was inconsequential. She'll leave no permanent mark on earth. She'll crash, burn, and collapse like a star.

He'll be shining throughout time.

But she figured if she could leave a permanent mark on Natsume's heart… _that_ would be enough for her. She would be more than content to find a place for herself there, in his heart, to reside in for eternity.

By the time he was concluding his presentation, Mikan felt her eyes well up.

She was so proud of him.

"Thank you for your time tonight," Natsume graciously finished, bowing formally.

Immediately, a round of applause followed.

Jinno and some other professors joined Natsume on the podium, and a lot of shaking of the hands followed. The event photographer took the opportunity to take some shots of these handshakes.

Natsume was smiling, not into the camera, but at the faces that congratulated him.

She watched him: he still existed in the very centre of the room, but to her, he was the very centre of her entire universe.

Her heart felt so heavy. And at that moment, she wasn't quite sure if she were immensely happy, or immensely sad. It was a transcendental feeling that existed somewhere in between the two, powerful but incredibly silent. It was a dense feeling of unbearable longing and tranquil peacefulness; Mikan had never felt anything quite like it. But she knew, that though she would never be able to articulate this throbbing feeling perfectly, she would always remember the way it had made her heart and throat clench.

* * *

Once the applause, the formalities of the handshakes and photographing were done, the lights returned to the hall, illuminating everyone. Gradually the audience stood up from the seats, small-talking, and begun gravitating slowly towards the buffet tables that had drinks and canapés neatly lined up on the white, stiff linen.

The waiters promptly returned and begun pouring gold champagne into the flutes, and soon they dispersed, scattering like the leaves in autumn, with fancy trays of champagne flutes in their hands.

Sumire was quick to catch one.

"Oh, darling, darling, darling—" she called and fussed, standing up, "champagne for me, please. I'm just _parched_."

She impressively drank the champagne as if it were water.

She smacked her pretty lips together. "Just the stuff. Wonderful. Thanks, darling," with a dazzling smile, she passed her empty glass back to the waiter.

Despite his very professional expression, the tips of his ears were pink. It was hard not to blush when Sumire Shouda looked directly into your eyes.

Mikan looked at Hotaru. "What did you think?"

"Very exciting." It wasn't the longest appraisal, but Mikan knew it was sincere, especially as Hotaru's eyes were gleaming with an intellectual spark. Pensively, she was still looking in Natsume's direction, mulling everything over.

"It must be good if you said so," Mikan smiled.

"I'm clearly not the only one who thinks so either; look," Hotaru tilted her chin towards Natsume, motioning purposefully.

Mikan complied and turned to look: a group of men and women, ages ranging from forty to seventy, had approached Natsume. They all possessed a sense of eagerness in their steps, and the air around them could only be described as brimming with intellectualism, and perhaps even a dash of elitism. They were all foreign. Hotaru had recognised some of the members immediately; it took Mikan a bit more time.

"Oh, that's Professor Adebayo!" she gasped. "Natsume's a huge fan! He even consulted her about—"

"Adebayo, Rowling, Ouyang, McNamara, Fakhoury, Chandra…" Hotaru flawlessly listed all the professors' names. "They're all from Cambridge University. They're the top members of Cambridge's astrophysics department."

"Oh," Mikan inspected them all again. "Well, they all look very distinguished—"

"They don't just look distinguished: they _are_. They are the best of the best, la crème de la crème. And by the looks of it, they think Natsume is too. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they're keen to recruit him."

After a brief pause, Mikan laughed uncertainly. "But Natsume's done with studying. Why would they ask him to come to study some more—"

"Recruit him as a professor, not a student," Hotaru replied matter-of-factly.

Mikan opened her mouth, but closed it, for she did not know quite what to say. Instead, she could only just silently watch Professor Ouyang formally introduce himself to Natsume.

She could hear her heartbeat echo in the shells of her ears.

Her mind, she saw England: the houses made of bricks, the chimneys, the dense grey clouds, the wonderful trees that lined the historic streets—her mind flashed again, and now she saw Natsume there, in England, sitting on a bench near a park, far away from her—

Only Koko and Sumire's sudden piercing laughter ripped her attention away; abruptly, she jumped in her seat, her blinks swifter than usual.

"Oh, Koko, you are a _bad man_ —"

Aware of her surroundings, Mikan now saw the way Aoi kept looking over, biting her lip nervously. She filed England and the Cambridge professors into the back of her mind. Kindly, Mikan stood up and beckoned Aoi over.

"Come!" she called encouragingly.

Shyly, Aoi did.

"Permy, Hotaru—" gently, she held Aoi's hand, pulling her closer towards the trio, "this is Aoi, Natsume's little sister. She's been very excited to meet you both—"

Sumire pushed Koko away, quite unceremoniously. He 'oof-ed' then 'oi-ed'. Sumire ignored him, her eyes now wide with excitement, brimming with a new sense of determination and interest. Sumire always liked to examine and inspect pretty little things.

"Oh, darling!" Sumire pulled Aoi into her arms. "Aren't you just the sweetest girl!"

Mikan affectionately smiled and chuckled as she watched Aoi's face burn, with her eyes as round as a crystal orb.

"Mikan's told us _all_ about you, of course!"

"Hi, Aoi," Hotaru managed to say, inclining her head.

"Hello!" Aoi squeaked, absolutely stunned by the two women.

They possessed the same aura and gravitational pull as Mikan did. They were so beautiful it felt rather overwhelming as if looking directly into a bright light. They all glowed, like fairies.

"You are your brother have _marvellous_ genes," Sumire proclaimed. There was no hint of envy of jealousy in her voice, just excessive candour. She enunciated her words very lavishly. "You're as cute as a button! A natural beauty,"

Aoi immediately denied this and countered back with copiously heavy compliments.

Mikan laughed. "Aoi, say anymore and Sumire will get drunk with self-importance,"

"Ha-ha," Sumire shook her head before she winked at Aoi. "I like your lipstick, by the way,"

It was as if Aoi had been waiting for this exact moment all evening: immediately, she squealed, "It's from your _Lip Kit_ collection!"

This made Sumire like Aoi even more than she already did. " _Really!_ Do you like it?"

"It's my absolute favourite!"

If it were even possible, Sumire beamed even brighter at these words. " _Darling!_ Why didn't you say earlier! Oh, aren't you just the sweetest! I'll tell you what: I'll ask Mikan for you address later, and I'll send you all my _Lip Kits_ , how does that sound?"

" _Oh my gosh!_ "

Knowing this was their cue to leave, Hotaru and Mikan moved away from the gushing two, making their way towards Luca and Mr Hyuuga. The two were talking very warmly about Natsume's talk but benevolently paused their conversation when Hotaru and Mikan appeared by their sides.

"Ioran, this is Hotaru, my closest friend," Mikan introduced, smiling.

"How do you do, Mr Hyuuga," Hotaru greeted.

The conversation resumed, and as it developed promisingly, Mikan took this comfortable condition as an opportunity to look back towards Natsume again. Now, she saw that he was in deep conversation with Professor Rowling: Rowling was doing all the talking, and Natsume was just nodding, completely absorbed, with contemplative expression and air.

 _What are you talking about_ , Mikan's mind whimpered, _let me in, please_. _Look over here, look at me, please._

That earlier sense of transcendental peacefulness had vanished. It had dissipated as quickly as it had come.

Now, a different, very thick, smothering emotion weighed her down. It felt like sludge: incredibly heavy, dark and unclean.

 _What are you talking about, Natsume. Ignore them. Leave them. Look at me instead. Come, be by my side._

She didn't know she was capable of such desperate neediness. She always found it a repugnant emotion in others, but she couldn't help those feelings that were rising up from her stomach, blocking her throat. They were in the same room, and she was right by his family, and yet, for the first time, she felt so incredibly far away from Natsume. It suddenly occurred to her that Natsume might be light years ahead of her: he was now surrounded by those who shared the same intellectual capacity, people much cleverer and impressive than herself. They were clearly welcoming Natsume into their prestigious world of academics with open arms, confidence in his competence.

Selfish thoughts came to her mind.

Mikan did not want to share Natsume. Despite being so proud of him, so incredibly amazed by his achievements, in that moment, Mikan selfishly wanted to keep him all to herself. She did not want to share him with anyone else. She wanted to be the only one who basked in his radiance and humanity. She wanted to pull him aside from the centre and hide his brightness from everyone else, shield and shelter him away from the avid attention with her arms. She wished to cloak him in midnight.

When Mr Hyuuga suggested they all make their way to the restaurant, everyone agreed. "Natsume can meet us there," he said, "Professor Jinno said he might be a while."

"I'm so proud of that boffin," Koko said, the true friend he was.

"Yeah, me too." Luca smiled. "He deserves it. He's worked so hard."

Mikan swallowed the shameful lump in her throat. She hated that she couldn't agree with these sentiments without lying to herself.

She knew how much Natsume deserved success. She knew how hard he worked every day, every night, even on the weekend. She knew he deserved the best of the best, or as Hotaru put it, la crème de la crème.

And now, she was scared that she was not the best of the best. In fact, she most definitely knew she was not—she was not even remotely close to the best. She was just a silly socialite, who had never worked for a meal. She was utterly ridiculous: a privileged brat, unworthy of all the attention and riches she possessed. She couldn't do anything without her credit cards, her name, and her transient face. And her heart was clearly no better: here she was, selfishly ruminating instead of wholeheartedly celebrating her boyfriend's success.

She hated that she felt this way. She woefully acknowledged the true extent of her vile greed: her inherent entitlement meant that a part of her felt she deserved Natsume's full attention, always. This possessive desperation in her heart was rank.

She knew how awful these thoughts were. She felt terrible. She felt so conflicted.

But one thing she was absolutely certain: Natsume had got it completely wrong all along. Deep down, she knew that it was her that did not deserve him.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Natsume finally arrived to Ginza. The place Sumire had chosen was not exactly a bar—it was a gastro-pub or sorts, loud and rowdy, reeking of beer and grilled chicken, and yet it was sleek and modern in its design and décor.

When he gave his name, the waiter led him a private room in the back. He entered, and immediately, everyone called his name in welcome.

"It's like my birthday all over again," he joked, smiling.

"Sit, darling, sit!" Sumire loudly called, "Food's here, and there's plenty more to come! Here, have a drink!"

Natsume manoeuvred his way to Mikan. As he passed his father and Aoi, he squeezed both of their shoulders. Aoi was too engrossed in her conversation with Hotaru to really notice.

His father, however, warmly patted and gripped his hand and congratulated him.

He stood by his father for a while to speak to him.

Then, he finally made his way to his seat, right beside Mikan. It was the central seat of the room, the Emperor seat. As he lowered himself, his hand automatically touched her back, and once he was sat, on the same level as her, he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

He only meant to kiss her briefly, but her hand clutched him, keeping him there longer than he intended.

"Well done, Natsume," she said so only he could hear, "it was amazing. It was everything and more."

"Jinno's happy. So I guess I'm allowed to be happy too." He modestly replied, and Mikan laughed. He was speaking fast and his smile was a proud one.

He was most definitely happy.

He pulled away, and Mikan's hand fell, but then it landed on his leg and rested there.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Natsume now said to everyone in the room, "Jinno wanted to speak to me and—"

"You're the man of the hour!" Mochu shouted from the other side of the table, and Koko whooped beside him, banging his fist on the table.

"Drink!" Koko commanded, "And eat!"

Natsume was, indeed, starved. Quickly, he piled food on his plate, and noticing this vigour, Sumire accommodatingly called the waiter and ordered more food.

"Well done, Onii-chan!" Aoi cried, smiling proudly at her older brother. "I'm so proud of you! It was so good!"

Beside her, Hotaru spoke too. "It was very impressive. Do you mind me asking about the gaggle of Cambridge professors?" Hotaru cut straight to the chase; she'd been intrigued all evening.

"Yeah, of course," Natsume answered. Mikan noticed he was acting more open and friendly than usual. Every word was laced with a sense of keenness. "Jinno invited Professor Adebayo—she assisted with some of my research on—well, that's another story—you see, Jinno invited her, and she brought along some of her colleagues too. I couldn't believe it when I saw—"

Mikan breathed deeply and kept her hand firmly on Natsume's leg as he spoke a mile a minute. Adrenaline was still coursing through him; she had never seen him act like this before, almost like an excited child after a hefty sugar dose. She was scared she was going to get left behind.

"Did they offer you a job?" Hotaru questioned.

Ioran's jaw fell slightly. "What?! You're going to England?"

Mikan's heart stopped for a moment.

"What? Me? No, they just came to congratulate me," Natsume answered honestly, "They were all really nice—"

"Natsume, you're full-on geeking out to the maximum level, man! You are currently on Nerd Level 100."

"Shut up Koko, let him have this!"

The laughter and conversation continued around her, but Mikan found it incredibly hard to join. Her heart was pounding incessantly. Relief was now flooding her—he's not going to England, he's not going to England—but at the same time, shame was also manifesting within her.

She couldn't believe she was still making this all about her when it was Natsume's night.

At that moment, Natsume's own hand fell on top of Mikan's. She looked up at him. He was smiling at her, and then squeezed her hand.

"Thanks for your support," he said to her, so happy.

"Don't be silly," she quietly said, "of course I'm here to support you."

"Well, let's just say I really appreciated your smiles. I could see them so clearly."

On the other side, Hotaru was mulling things over. She still couldn't quite accept that all those professors had come all the way to Japan for a conference. They had jobs to do in Cambridge too; surely they couldn't all just walk out of teaching and research for trivial matters. No, no. She was more than certain that they had come all the way here to suss Natsume Hyuuga out, to see whether or not they wanted to recruit him to their team. And she'd bet high money that after tonight they most definitely wanted Natsume Hyuuga to become Professor Natsume Hyuuga of Cambridge University's Astrophysics Department.

"Mikan, Natsume!" Sumire loudly called, as she held up her iPhone, the camera directed at them. "Smile!"

Smoothly, Natsume snaked his arm around Mikan's shoulder, pulling her in. Mikan glanced up at him and saw that he was smiling in the camera's direction. So, following suit, she leaned into him before she also smiled brightly.

"Very nice!" Sumire confirmed as she inspected the photo. "Let's take some more—Hotaru and Aoi-chan, look here and smile! … Oh come on, Hotaru, it won't _kill_ you to smile for a photo!"

The photo shoot continued, as did the eating, talking and the drinking.

Natsume was talking across the table to Luca, laughing heartily, on his third beer.

It was around this time Ioran decided it was time for him and Aoi to go home. It was getting quite late. Aoi wanted to stay longer, but she did not cause a fuss as she got up to leave. In fact, she seemed more than pacified, as Sumire had promised for the hundredth time that she would send Aoi a 'huge haul' of makeup by next week.

"It was so fabulous meeting you both!" Sumire said to the Hyuugas.

"It was good to meet you Aoi and Hyuuga-san," Hotaru respectfully inclined her head.

Natsume got up to say goodbye to his family, giving them both a hug.

"You should get to bed early, Natsume," his father told him, "I'm sure you're very tired."

They bid goodbye to everyone else, with Mikan guaranteeing that she'd come to see them sometime this week.

Once the father and the sister left, things got wilder at a very, very quick pace.

Alcohol flowed unrestrainedly into the room. It was an extravagant affair.

Luca was pink the face as he laughed wildly at Mochu; Hotaru chortled loudly, as she threw sarcastic taunts at Mochu. Koko and Sumire were having a heated, very drunk discussion between themselves.

Natsume too was leaning forward on his seat as he laughed at Luca's excessive reaction. "Luca, calm the fuck down!" He was very amused and threw his wet towel in Luca's direction. "Cool down, you drunk,"

But then his elbow accidently knocked over his own cutlery off the table, on Mikan's side.

"Oh shit," Natsume turned, "sorry, Mikan,"

Mikan shook away his apology. "Don't be, you silly drunk. Here, you can use my cutlery."

He paused to look at her, unblinking. Then, he turned his body around, so his body faced her too.

"Yeah. I think I am a bit drunk." He finally announced.

Mikan's lightly laughed, before her hand touched his cheek, cradling it. He responded immediately but nuzzling into her hand, as if he were a cat.

She smiled softly at him. "You're a sweet drunk."

"Mmm." His closed his eyes, enjoying her touch.

She stroked his cheek. "You must be tired. Do you want to head back soon?" Her voice was soft as wool.

With his eyes closed, his shook his head. "No," his tone was slightly childish, sweetly so, "I want to stay and have fun."

"Okay," her thumb traced his cheekbone once more before she let her hand fall. She then pushed herself up. "I'm going to the restroom,"

When Mikan locked the door to the toilet, she could finally confront the sadness that she felt at Natsume's words. Again, she knew perfectly well that her despondency was totally selfish, and yet… and yet, she felt so wretched. She had wrongly assumed that he would want to go home soon, so he could be alone with her. She knew she was just projecting her own neediness onto him. Sadly, she thought again about how Natsume didn't depend on her as much as she did on him (at least, that's what she saw). But at the same time, she felt incredibly guilty that she wanted to keep him all for herself, especially tonight of all nights. He did not belong to her—she knew that. He was not her property. She did not own him.

And yet, why did it hurt her heart so much when he said he wanted to stay out with everyone to have fun? Was it not fun when it was just the two of them? Was he getting bored of spending time with her, living with her?

Mikan was determined not to cry because she knew that she was being utterly absurd.

"Stop being so selfish," she muttered to herself, as she closed her eyes, "you stupid, stupid girl."

She reminded herself yet again that Natsume was finally, _finally_ , after months and months of preparations free from the stress of this conference. He was finally free of being chained to his desk, sitting hunched in front of his computer. He would no longer have to go to the office anymore, at all hours of the day. He deserved to have this evening, and many more, to let loose, get drunk, and enjoy his newly free time with his loved ones. He was free now: all that was left for him to do was to wait for his grade and receive his doctorate. He could now spend his precious time just the way he wanted.

And yet, Mikan longed to congratulate him on his accomplishment alone, with just the two of them to share the moment.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Natsume was completely wasted.

Hotaru had sobered up in the last half-hour, and Mikan did not drink that much to begin with, but everyone else was pretty drunk too.

It was time for the celebration to end.

The three girls had decided earlier in the day that they would split the bill between them (it would be their treat), and luckily Hotaru had the sense to call the gastro-pub in the afternoon, informing them that they would rather settle the bill the following day. This was wise, for it was hard enough to pull all their drunken friends out of the gastro-pub without causing a huge mess and a fuss.

"Thank you so much again," Hotaru said to the waiter, "Please call the number provided tomorrow."

"Of course, Ms. Imai. Thank you for your patronage,"

"Come on, Natsume," Mikan pulled his arm around her shoulder and held it down with one hand, as the other hand gripped his waist. "We're leaving,"

He was taller, heavier, and his feet were slightly dragging, but she managed to heave him out of the pub, into the street. The cold air felt refreshing and cool against their skin.

"Are you okay?" Mikan asked.

Natsume mumbled incoherently. Out of everyone, he was by far the drunkest.

Soon enough, Mochu and Luca's piercing singing flooded the streets of Ginza as they exited the pub too. Their arms around each other, they were singing enthusiastically and very poorly. Hotaru came out next, and finally, Sumire and Koko emerged too, both pink in the face.

"Mikan, go," Hotaru said, noticing the strain Natsume's weight must be causing Mikan. "I'll make sure these guys catch a taxi. Go, don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Go, go,"

"Thanks, Hotaru. For everything. I'll call you tomorrow!"

Hotaru hailed a taxi on Mikan's behalf and helped Mikan usher Natsume into the backseat. With his eyes closed, his cheeks red, Natsume mumbled something yet again as he thudded onto the cushioned seat.

Mikan thanked Hotaru again before she climbed in the taxi too. She provided the driver with their address, and soon enough, the taxi was weaving its way back to their home.

Mikan sighed deeply. She looked outside the window, watching the other revellers that decorated the streets of Tokyo.

Suddenly, she felt Natsume press himself against her, and rather awkwardly, his head lolled and fell onto her shoulder. He moved around, pressing himself against her more deeply to find a comfortable position.

Affectionately, she smiled and held his hand.

He responded by murmuring, "I'm tired,"

"I know," she softly said, "We'll be home soon."

"Home?"

"Yes,"

"Mmm."

He didn't say any more. He had fallen asleep.

When the taxi arrived back home, she gently shook his shoulders. "Come on… wake up, we're home."

Blearily, his eyes opened.

"Come on," she kindly smiled. "Let's get you to bed."

* * *

It took some time to get back into their flat, considering Natsume's sluggish and heavy moments. She carried him straight to their bedroom, and let him slowly fall onto their bed. Appreciatively, he groaned and then he instinctively rubbed his cheek against the soft blanket.

Mikan went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. After she poured the water, she heard him calling her name.

"Mikan? Mikan?"

When she returned with a full glass, she saw he was sitting up on the bed now, swaying ever so slightly.

"There you are," he said, relieved, as his eyes found hers, "I thought I lost you."

She smiled before she sat down beside him. She brought the glass to his lips. "Drink this. You need to drink some water."

He complied like a good little boy, and once he was done, he even thanked her like one.

Then, he leaned against her, pressing his forehead just above her chest.

"I'm sleepy," he told her. She stroked his hair with her free hand.

"Let's get you out of your clothes," she stood up before she assisted him in take his jacket and shirt off. The tie came off next. He mumbled and grumbled slightly as she helped pulled his trousers off too. Finally, she pulled the bed covers up and ushered him underneath the blanket. With his clothes in her hand, she made to move—she wanted to hang his clothes back up and put them aside, so she could take them to the dry cleaner's—but Natsume's small voice stopped her.

"Mikan?" he called.

"Yes? Are you alright?" She asked, leaning down towards him. "Do you want more water?"

His hand took her's, and he placed it against his cheek. Once again, he nuzzled her hand demonstratively, his eyes closed blissfully. Mikan giggled quietly and put his clothes on her side of the bed. She sat down on the mattress, on his side, and pressed up right against him.

He now moved her hand to his lips, and he kissed her palm.

Then, he opened his eyes, moved her hand away so he could smile up at her.

And at that moment, Mikan felt her heart burst with relief: finally, he was all hers.

His arm pulled her down, and so she lay with half of her body on top of him, the other half pressed against him. She tried her best not to crush him as she hugged him back, tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, Natsume," this time, she meant those words.

She felt him stroking her hair.

"I want to be with you always," he then professed, his voice remarkably clear.

Mikan closed her eyes. She snuggled against his chest.

"Me too."

"Tomorrow," he then said, "let's celebrate. Just you and me."

"Yes, please."

That same painful peace gripped her heart. Once again, Mikan felt a profound sense of blessedness, one that was so strong it hurt her. This ache that Natsume sparked in her made her feel more alive than anything else in the universe.

* * *

The next morning, at exactly 8:00am, Natsume woke up. His body was so accustomed to waking up early, that despite his acute hangover, the weightiness of his aching limbs and general grogginess, he could not fall back asleep. He moved closer towards Mikan, pressing his body against her, kissing the back of her head, before he decided to get up.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

He might as well get a drink of water, he reasoned; not to mention, if his memory served him right, Mikan had single-handedly carried him home last night. The least he could do was make her a cup of coffee in gratitude.

The faint winter sun had dimly seeped through the cracks of the curtains, and as he looked around their room, he saw that Mikan had also hung up his suit, with his tie draped neatly around it.

He reckoned she also deserved a hearty breakfast for everything she had done for him.

As he jammed two slices of toast in the toaster, he also wondered who had paid for the dinner last night. He had not recollection of anyone paying the bill. He assumed that Mikan had paid for their journey back home. He made a mental reminder to pay her back for everything he owed her. He also thought that he would like to buy her a gift too. He owed her so much.

He knew that whatever he bought her, she could afford something better. She could afford the best of the best. But he put that thought to rest for now.

To his surprise, when he returned to their bedroom with breakfast and two cups of coffee on a tray, Mikan was sitting up in bed. She looked as if she had just woken up; her expression was muddled and confused, and traces of sleep softening her overall stance.

She saw him with food and coffee.

"Noooo," she whined, and fell back on the bed, with a childishly disgruntled expression, "I was gonna make you breakfast!"

Natsume grinned and got back into bed with the sustenance. He saw that she was still whining, dismayed, a deep frown in between her eyebrows.

"I was going to bring you breakfast in bed!" She said again, pouting, "It was supposed to be a nice surprise!"

He arm ushered her closer to him in an attempt to mollify her.

Grinning, he said, "Well, I wanted to thank you for last night." His voice was quite hoarse, "Thank you for everything: the suit, for helping organize the dinner, taking me home… How much do I owe you?"

"My treat. Well, _our_ treat, really. Hotaru, Sumire and I are splitting everything between us, so don't you worry. Your father also insisted on paying, but I said no. If he mentions it again, be sure to tell him he doesn't owe any of us a penny. Mmm—pass me the toast,"

He did, and he watched her take a large bite. She passed it to him, and he also took a big bite. Soon, he was kissing the crumbs off her lips and chin as she giggled giddily.

"Thank you, Mikan," he said once more. "For everything."

It made Mikan happy that Natsume didn't contend that he owed her money for last night. She was glad he was accepting her and her friends' congratulatory treat.

Now, in bed, they talk about last night's conference. Natsume was clearly very pleased; he spoke cheerfully about it, and she reiterated how proud she was of him. Again, this time when she said it, she was entirely sincere.

"It feels strange not to have to prepare for it anymore though," Natsume mused, as Mikan sipped her coffee. "It's all I've known for all these months."

"So, all that's left now is to await your grade and receive your doctorate?"

Natsume nodded. He contemplated further before he said, "I suppose I could take more shifts at _Goemon_. And now I could always take on more undergraduate students to tutor. I think I'll be able to charge a bit more now, too."

Mikan laughed at his modesty. "Natsume, you could charge them a _fortune!_ They'd be more than lucky to have you tutor them! But yes, those are both good ideas." She then asked, "And after you receive your doctorate… you'll teach at Tokyo University?"

"If they take me." He replied. "I'll apply to a few universities in Tokyo and see what I find. But Tokyo University would be ideal in terms of location."

"I'm sure Jinno would be more than pleased to see you work beside him. You know," she remarked, "I've become really fond of him. He texted me last night thanking me for keeping you company all these months while you wrote your thesis. Isn't that sweet of him?"

Natsume raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Since when do you have his number?" Mirth was evident in his tone. "To think all this time I've been worrying about Noel Sodding Newman, and all along, it was Jinno I should have kept my eye on."

Mikan laughed.

She changed the course of the conversation. "So? How would you like to spend your day off?"

"Well, I'm thinking we take a bath first."

"Alright," she smiled encouragingly.

"Then, let's see… well, it'll be cold outside. Let's watch something. Then we can crawl out to get some food."

She nodded, consenting. But then, she asked, "You won't get bored?"

He shook his head. "I'm never bored when I'm with you."

He said it in jest, but he did mean it. Doing nothing with Mikan still meant everything to Natsume.

They finished breakfast in bed, content that they had all day to spend together, without anyone, not even the clock, there to separate them.

"I'll go put in a bath for us," Natsume announced, taking the empty plate and mugs with him.

"Thanks," Mikan said before she stretched to retch for her phone on the bedside table. "We took some really good photos last night," she called after his retreating figures.

"Yeah?"

She unlocked her phone screen. She saw that she had many unread messages. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God!"

"What?" Natsume asked from the kitchen.

"You won't believe it,"

Natsume returned to their room, expectant. "Everything okay?"

He saw that it was. Her cries had been of jubilant incredulity.

"According to Hotaru," Mikan was guffawing, and she rolled over towards him, highly excited, "Sumire and Koko went home together last night!"

"Oh shit," Natsume's jaw fell. "Oh _shit_ ,"

"Oh _yes_ ," Mikan's jubilation only continued.

Natsume jumped back on the bed, and together, lying down on their fronts, they looked down at Mikan's phone like teenagers. They giggled profusely as Mikan sent a series of texts back to Hotaru.

"They definitely did it."

"Oh, no doubt about it. For sure."

Mikan also sent some texts to Sumire. Then, after their giggles subsided, she clicked on her photo albums. Together, they viewed all the photos she took last night on her phone.

"I love this one," she commented; it was one of Natsume, Aoi and their father.

He agreed.

She swiped her finger to a photo of Natsume and herself.

"Send that one to me," Natsume asked.

"I'll send them all to you. We should get them printed!"

"We'll do that today," Natsume pronounced, smiling lazily, "and let's also call Koko and tease the shit out of him,"

"Sounds like the perfect day you deserve," she swooped a kiss right on his cheek.

He planted one right back.

* * *

It started.

The following Monday, a popular tabloid magazine ran an article titled, "Mikan and Sumire Get Smart!"

Written with that same acidic fervour, it ruthlessly questioned Mikan and Sumire's attendance at the annual Astronomical Conference. The article tittered especially cruelly towards Sumire, mentioning more than once that she was not known for her mental prowess. The pseudo-journalist probed as to why the two socialites were at such a conference, and not at a glitzy party more befitting to their reputations. It stupidly then concluded with the assumption that Hotaru Imai, "the one with the brains", must have dragged her two frivolous friends by their hair to this conference. They attributed Mikan's presence at this prestigious academic convention to Hotaru.

It didn't even occur to the tabloids that she was there supporting her man.

* * *

 **A/N** : Hi guys! I know it's been so long. I completely lost my muse—she disappeared on me. But maybe it's the return of November, but finally, my muse for this story is back! I can't promise she'll stay, but I'm glad that this chapter is finally out.

Next, an old figure from Mikan's past returns. Her extravagant birthday party is around the corner.

Until then!


	15. Your Golden World

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Fifteen: Your Golden World**

* * *

For a socialite, December is usually the busiest time of year. Everyone who was anyone liked to throw lavish holiday parties, strewn with glitter, fanciful tinsel and enchanting light displays. It was the perfect time of year to conspicuously blow a fortune on magical spectacles, rich food and enchanting music. Everything sparkled more brightly in December with the help of the Christmas spirit and seasonal alcoholic spirits.

It was the fourth party of the week. On Friday evening, Mikan came back to the flat, utterly exhausted.

She had only spent an hour at the Ibaragi's Annual Christmas Party, but to Mikan, one hour was more than enough. Despite the wonderful Winter Wonderland theme, with its gorgeous ice sculptures, fake snow, reindeers and frosted glass displays, Mikan had been desperate to leave the party soon after she arrived. Four parties in a week were too much. She couldn't bear another minute of small talking, forceful laughter and frozen smiles.

She had been hoping that Nobara, the Ibaragi family's only daughter, would be there tonight, but quite quickly she learnt that Nobara was still in studying glaciers in Iceland. Mikan had always liked Nobara, and so she was genuinely disappointed when she heard of her absence.

Once again, earlier tonight, Natsume had zipped up her dress and had given her a kiss when she left.

She came, they saw, she smiled, they took her picture, and now finally, she was free.

It had been a cold night. Even the short walk from the taxi to the front door sent shivers down her spine. She felt so drained.

When she opened the door to their flat, the comforting, warm smell of buttery chicken pie engulfed her. Sighing in relief, Mikan closed the door firmly behind her, shutting out all the disenchantment of the night. Let the recharging begin.

A smile lit up her face as she saw Natsume sitting on their couch, the television on and food in his hand.

"You're back," he exclaimed, clearly happy. He turned his body to face her, still sitting. He eagerly regarded her, ignoring the raucous laughter from the television programme he was watching. "That was quick,"

"Nobara wasn't there. You know, the friend I was telling you about; the one who likes glaciers." Mikan told him; she shrugged off her expensive coat, draping it on the kitchen table before she came to him in her glorious evening dress. "So, I said my hellos, smiled and then made a quick escape,"

She joined him on the couch in her white, satin dress; not caring if it got wrinkled, she leaned on him and her arms circled him. He responded by placing a warm arm around her, grasping her waist, pressing her closer.

She was his Queen. She smelt amazing.

"Did you eat?"

"A bit,"

"Well, there's loads left, if you want," he meant the chicken pie, "so help yourself."

She took the fork from him and took some from his plate.

"You should change," he said, cautious of her white dress, "You wouldn't want to smear pie on it."

"In a bit. I'm incapable of moving right now."

Together, they watched television, and carefully, Natsume continued to feed her. He found amusement in their situation, with Mikan sitting, slumped, in a splendid dress, leaning against him. Sometimes she would make incoherent utterances, which Natsume instinctively understood meant 'feed me'.

"So, how was it?"

"Mmm." She idly shrugged. "I mean, it was beautiful. They really went to town with the Winter Wonderland theme. It did look like something out of a fairytale. Like Lapland, or something."

"That's cool," Natsume commented.

"They had reindeers."

"Jesus," Natsume raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

"Yeah." Her tone was quite nonchalant. But then, she sat up. Curiously, she asked him, "When I tell you about these parties and events, do you ever think, 'I want to go'?"

Her voice was no longer indifferent or blasé—keenly, she watched him, with her eyes clear in anticipation for a response.

"No, not really," Natsume replied. "I mean, you always complain about them."

He was teasing her.

"I'm serious!" Mikan giggled, "Do you ever wish to join me?"

Natsume now considered this question earnestly. But even so, his honest answer was still a no. Mikan usually came back from these events quickly; sometimes, she came back so swiftly that it was as if she had just popped in and out to the shops, be it in a glamourous couture dress.

Finally, he answered, "I don't really like parties."

She edged closer to him, "Nor do I! We could dislike them together," her tone was light and bubbly. "We could find the food platters and sit in the corner like rebels."

Natsume regarded her, surprised. "It almost sounds like you're asking me to come and join you."

"Would you say no?"

Natsume took a few seconds to formulate a response. "I thought the whole point of you going to these events and parties was for you to be seen and get your photo taken. If I were to come with you, people will see us together, sitting in the corner eating all the food. What would happen then?"

"They can call it what they want. 'Mikan Sakura, fat and pregnant, eats all the cake'. I don't care!"

He considered her words and her jovial tone, but he stayed silent.

She then added, "And you know… if you came with me, I might actually enjoy the party. Might be fun to be in a Winter Wonderland, with you. It'd feel like we're in a pretty snow globe, together, and we could dance like the Nutcracker."

Mikan certainly made it sound very picturesque, but Natsume's mind was carefully considering her pretty proposal.

Logically, he concluded, "I would enjoy being with you, of course. But going somewhere like that is of no consequence to me. I'll be able to come back home with just happy memories. But I don't like to think what it might do to you. I don't want the tabloids to get to you again," He thought of the most recent exposé about the absurdity of Sumire and Mikan's appearances at the Astronomical Conference. "I don't want my appearance, next to you, to compromise your reputation or social standing."

"Compromise? Natsume, how on earth would you compromise my reputation or my social standing! You're the smartest young man in Japan! It'd be an honour for me, or anyone for that matter, to stand beside you. And I've made it clear to you before: it's _your_ life that will inevitably be tainted with mine, not the other way round."

Natsume cut straight to the chase. "You think we're ready? You want us to go public?"

Mikan hesitated. She sat up with her back now straight. Finally, she said, "Those who don't matter will talk. So, let them talk."

Her cryptic words did not make anything clearer for Natsume, so he stayed silent, allowing her to say something more. He put the food down on the coffee table before them. This was a big decision.

"The real question is, are you ready?" Mikan asked. "Are you ready to be scrutinised?"

He softly smiled. "I think that I've made it clear that I'll continue following you."

"… it's my birthday in two weeks time," came Mikan's quiet response.

Their voices were now as tender as the first snowfall.

"I know. January 1st."

The date was entwined to his heartstrings, knotted and tied perfectly together. He had spent hours on the internet trying to find her the perfect birthday present, within his budget. He had finally chosen what to present her early last week. It was wrapped up already, safely stowed away in his father's home. Although it was old, cheap and overly sentimental he hoped that she would like it and that it wouldn't look so inadequate and measly next to all the glittering gifts she was sure to receive from others.

"… Sumire is organising a birthday party for me, at the Imperial Hotel. From what she's told me, it sounds like it's going to be an extravagant affair: one with hundreds of people… and, well, I don't think I'll be able to pop in and out of it so easily. So I was wondering, do you want to come? Come, accompany me and be my date? She's dying for you to come. She's even extended the invitation to your friends. And, most important, I would love for you to come too and be there with me. Next to me."

"Of course I'll celebrate your birthday, Mikan,"

"… Even with hundreds of people? People I don't like, let alone know?"

"More the reason to go, then."

"So, you're okay with going public with me?"

Natsume slipped his hand gently into hers. "Of course."

"We're going out as a couple?"

"Yes, it seems that way."

His fingers stroked the white satin. She leaned against him again.

* * *

Natsume sat on the tweed couch; he could tell it was expensive, with a golden thread running and weaving through it like a beautiful river that stitched everything up. The room was warmly light by the opulent chandelier and decorative lamps: like jewels, they shot brightness in every direction, illuminating every nook and cranny.

On the glass coffee table sat his coffee and three glossy magazines. He reached only for his coffee.

The attendant returned with a plate of delicacies. Belgian truffle chocolates and French cookies adorned the rose-gold plate. She offered him a saccharine smile, before simpering that Mikan Sakura would be out shortly.

Yesterday, Mikan had asked Natsume to come with her to Omotesando. She wanted Natsume to choose the dress that she would wear for her birthday party next week. He had agreed.

But now, he felt awkward on this expensive couch, with all its lavish cushions. His experience of shopping had always been: go to the shop, pick something, try it on, pay and go.

With Mikan, it went something like this: go to the shop, immediately be greeted by all the attendants, then the shop manager comes and personally whisks you away to the VIP elevator. The elevator takes you to the top floor, which looks like a gorgeous apartment, with couches, tables and chairs. The large windows overlooked all of Harajuku: this was your kingdom. Instead of perusing the racks, the many attendants bring the racks to you, presenting all the clothes to pick from, whilst you sit like a King or Queen on the couch. They ask you if you want coffee or tea, or perhaps even a glass of champagne. They even offer food. When you chose the dresses you want, they all marvel to the high heavens at your impeccable taste, before whisking you away again to the private VIP changing room, its interior inspired by the hall of mirrors in Versailles.

Everything was so new and different to Natsume. This was not his usual haunt: this was a French high fashion house of haute couture that dripped with money and pearls, its air pungent with fresh affluence. And Mikan was their perfect customer.

When the manager had gushed about the _affordable_ but stunning green dress, Natsume felt dumbstruck. The manager's understanding of affordable was very different from his: the dress was worth six months of his salary at _Goemon_.

Mikan had not liked the green dress. The manager then bowed deeply and agreed that the dress was not as stunning as she once thought. Clearly, rich customers were always right here. The manager even apologised for calling it affordable, pleading that she meant no offence and that she was sure that everything was affordable to Mikan Sakura, and rightly so.

Mikan simply continued to insist that Natsume choose. He had picked out a tight-fit floor-length golden dress, that had a high-neck and no sleeves. He did his best not to visibly cringe as the manager revealed the price of the dress.

With Mikan gone, changing, Natsume did not know where to look.

And so when she returned, radiant in gold, Natsume raised his head and stood up. She looked like a dream. He told her this.

Glowingly, she beamed. "I think this is the dress," she turned to the manager. "I'll take it."

* * *

Never had shopping been such a surreal experience. As they stepped outside, Natsume felt as if he had returned to reality. It was only four thirty in the afternoon, but the winter sun was already departing. The skies were dark, and the pavements looked a misty blue. He saw the flurry of people, the twinkle of the Christmas lights adorned on the lampposts, creating a wonderful canopy of light and festivity.

Soon, Mikan stood by his side: excitedly, she bounced towards him and latched herself on his arm. He held her hand in one and her new dress in his other hand.

He held Mikan's hand in one and her dress in his other hand.

He his turned towards her, looked down at her, amused. She was laughing for no apparent reason and then she reached up to briefly kiss him.

She opened her mouth, to laugh more or to say something, he wasn't sure. But the joy froze in her eye, as did the corner of her lips when a crisp voice called her name.

"Mikan? Is that you?"

Natsume saw her silent but sharp intake of breath before he turned around to the speaker.

The speaker was strawberry blond and very beautiful. She looked almost like a porcelain doll: her hair looked soft, gracefully falling on her shoulders, her skin pale and smooth, and her lips glossy and plump.

Her smile deepened when Mikan finally faced her.

"I thought it was you," she remarked. Her voice was not sweet or high, as her face might suggest, but rather deep and husky.

This voice belonged to a ghost of Mikan's past.

"Luna," Mikan smiled. "How nice to see you."

Natsume was shocked. Never had he heard Mikan sound so insincere. It was almost cruel. He could see how fake Mikan's smile was.

Luna Koizumi returned this cold smile right back at Mikan. She took it a step further by greeting Mikan with two kisses on the cheeks. Mikan returned them. Natsume could only watch, bewildered, as this icy encounter of hollow salutations continued.

"How have you been, darling?" Her pale eyes pointedly flickered in Natsume's direction. "Good, I see. Flavour of the month, is he?"

Natsume's expression hardened. He felt affronted.

Luna continued throwing acid, "Oh?" She now openly stared at their hands that were still joined together. "Or perhaps something slightly more serious?" Her voice was brimming with derision.

Natsume meant to reply to this woman's blasé brutality by tightening his grip on Mikan's hand, but Mikan slipped her's away from him. His rejected hand felt helpless. And when Mikan spoke, it only hurt him more.

"I'm allowed to have fun, Luna. I can do what I want when I want."

Mikan's words reminded Natsume of her father. _Dally_ , echoed in his mind once again.

"Oh, don't I know that," Luna laughed suggestively, "I know just how much you like to have fun, Mikan."

Mikan could no longer hide her absolute fury but underlining it was an utter shame.

"I can't wait for your party. I heard it's going to be the party of the year."

"Yours is always better, Luna."

"Hmm." She neither confirmed nor denied Mikan's statement. "Say hello to Tsubasa from me, won't you darling?"

Mikan was seething. Natsume was bleeding.

And in this cold silence, Luna was victorious yet again. She departed swiftly, with calculative intention in every step.

Mikan's anger still pulsated painfully, but with Luna and her callous smiles gone from her sight, another emotion captured her heart. Guilt exploded within her: she couldn't believe what she had just said to Luna, what she just did to Natsume. It was as if she were possessed—she had no intention of letting him go, abandoning him to Luna's fangs, to belittle their relationship—

"Natsume," she pleaded, "I'm so sorry—"

"Let's go home," Natsume said, his voice tired. He didn't know what else to say or do, here on the streets of Omotesando. He hid his hand away into the depths of his pocket. "I'm cold."

A fight was brewing. They both felt it in the wind's chill.

* * *

"How could you say that so easily?" Natsume asked, twenty minutes later, in their home. They were standing on opposite ends of the living room—him close to the kitchen and her by the couch.

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I swear Natsume, _I swear_ , I didn't mean it!"

"Well then, why did you say that?" He was so hurt and so confused. It had happened so quickly, so violently.

"Natsume, you don't understand—"

"Explain it to me then!" He beseeched.

"She's Tokyo's biggest gossip! I didn't want her to talk to people about us!"

Natsume was silent as he considered her words. "Mikan… I think we need to rethink next week."

"What do you mean?"

"You're clearly not ready for us to go public next week at your party."

Mikan gaped, shocked. "No! No, that's not it at all! This and that have nothing to do with each other! Of course I'm ready to go public—"

Natsume was utterly perplexed. "How on earth can you be ready if your reaction when somebody asks you if I'm your flavour of the month you respond by dismissing me away?"

Mikan looked close to tears. "I'm so sorry, Natsume. I'm so sorry I did that. I'm so sorry. But you must know how much you mean to me."

"Do you blame me for second guessing myself after you reacted like that?"

"Natsume—how can I explain this—Natsume, please understand that Luna Koizumi is the epitome of cruelty. She loves to see people hurt and suffer—"

This all just sounded like fanciful excuses to Natsume. "It wasn't this Luna Koizumi that hurt me tonight. It was you, Mikan."

"And I'm sorry for it, truly!" She moved towards him, crying now. "I didn't mean it! But Natsume, if only you knew how awful she really is. Her words were deliberate—she could see you were special to me, I know it; she _wants_ us to fight like this! This is exactly how she operates. She always wants to destroy any shred of happiness—"

"Mikan, you always criticise those around you. You think everyone is corrupt and evil—"

"They are! She is!" Mikan exclaimed, frantic. "Everyone around me, except for you, is corrupt!"

"Your friends aren't! You aren't either: you come from the same background as them all—"

"Haven't you figured it out? Don't you understand that I was exactly like Luna Koizumi before?" Her tears fell as her shame rose. "I betrayed people, I had affairs, I did drugs—all because I felt so empty all the time. I was in so much pain, I was so unhappy. Don't you see? I'm different now; I'm better now because I have you! And I'm definitely not going to let Luna Koizumi destroy us!"

Natsume moved towards Mikan. He saw that she was shaking. Her breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Mikan…"

"I feel like a different person with you, Natsume. I feel new. You make me good. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He pulled her into his arms. He hoped that she would stop shaking. It was disconcerting. His arms encased her body wholly.

"Mikan," his voice was low and soft, "You don't need me to be good. You never did, and you never will. You've always been good regardless of me."

Mikan winced as her past flashed in her mind. She shook her head, determined to banish them away.

"No, I haven't," was her sad response, "Natsume, I went through a really 'wild' phase. I don't know how else to describe it. I took so many drugs with so many different people and I," she paused. Then, she confessed, "I slept around…"

She seemed so embarrassed and scared to admit this.

But Natsume accepted her past easily, divulging his own, "If you want to incriminate yourself for everything you just said, well, you'd have to do the same with me too. Before you, I slept around too. And admittedly, although I didn't take any hard drugs, I was a chain-smoker. I bet you didn't know that."

"… Cigarettes and cocaine are different," Mikan murmured, her voice despondent and thin, as her nose sniffed.

To her surprise, Natsume responded by laughing. "Why do you always want to vindicate me but condemn yourself? I don't think ill of you. To me, you're good. You're enough. You don't need me to make you good, because, at the heart of it, you are a good person."

She still disagreed. "No. You're a good man. You have true integrity."

Natsume sighed. "Come, let's sit,"

He brought them down to the couch. He felt like he needed to address this issue of hers.

"Mikan, you need to stop romanticising me. You have this strange and very false impression that I'm good, and those around me are also good, pure and uncorrupted by money and status. But that's completely untrue. That's bullshit. My working-class background does not make me a good man. Those are not two mutually exclusive qualities. I know plenty of people who grew up in the same financial situations like me who are assholes, who are lazy, who do drugs, who cheat. It's not just rich people who do those things: everyone, irrespective of their income is capable of doing evil. I'm not any different. I've done and said bad shit in the past, and I can't promise I won't in the future. So, you need to stop romanticising me. I'm not as special as you think me to be. I should only be singled-out by my feelings towards you. No one feels the way I do about you. That's what should make me stand out to you, not some other bullshit reason."

Mikan curled up on the couch and pressed her face against the material. She quietly sobbed, "Why do I always hurt you… I'm so sorry."

He touched her shoulders. "Mikan, I'm trying to stop you from hurting yourself. I want you to be kinder to yourself." Even though her face was hidden, he moved closer to her, and softly pulled her hair back so he could find her cheeks. Once he did, he placed a kiss on her wet cheek. "I don't know if you're ready to make this relationship public. And I'm okay with that."

Her face fully emerged. She pressed her fingers firmly against her eyes and cheeks, wiping all her pathetic tears away. She hated how she always cried when she was in the wrong. She tried her best to steady her breath and summoned resolve from the pit of her stomach.

"No, no." She looked him in the eye, unblinking. "I'm ready. Please forgive how I acted in front of Luna. I won't react like that again. She's the only one who makes me feel like that. She was a big part of a very bad time in my life, so whenever I see her, those old wounds just resurface. I won't falter like that again."

Natsume was not entirely convinced. She could see it in his face.

She tried now to persuade him. "I'm just scared. I'm scared that when we go public next week, you'll regret it deeply. But another part of me is terrified that you won't hate it and that you might even be sucked into this world. It's like a spider web. The women are always beautiful…"

Natsume was surprised to hear these fears of hers. She had never voiced that she was worried about him betraying and abadoning her so.

"A part of me wants to show you off because you deserve praise for everything you've done. But if I do that, I'll expose you. And if I expose you, others will look at you. Chances are, these others might be smarter and more interesting than me. That scares me, and so a larger part of me wants to keep you all to myself. I," her voice broke, "I'm so selfish, I know, I'm sorry…"

"Forget everyone," Natsume advised sincerely, "Don't plague your mind with meaningless 'what-if's. Besides, you're worrying about the impossible. You're it for me, Mikan. Don't you see?"

"I just don't know if I'm worth your love," her self-doubt choked her. "You deserve the best, and I'm not that."

It was a tough night for the young couple. Mikan continued to cry about her deep-rooted insecurities and fears that stemmed from her volatile and hollow childhood. Natsume just sat by her side, letting her cry, as he did his best to softly reassure her. He refrained from promising her anything untrue to make her feel better: instead, he just remained by her side. Because sometimes, things aren't okay, and that's okay. Sometimes, crying is the right thing to do. Sometimes, promising that everything is going to be okay isn't the right thing to say. It's always best just to be there for someone than to give sweet words.

He stayed all evening with her on their couch, and when they retreated to bed, he held her through the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, I didn't mean it to end on a wistful, sad tone but here we go. The next chapter will be about Mikan's party. It'll be a mammoth chapter. Then, the story will come to a close after that.

Thanks for your reviews! I loved reading them.


	16. Happy Birthday

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Sixteen: Happy Birthday**

* * *

The Imperial Hotel stood proudly, tall and pristine. Although Christmas day had passed, the golden lights lingered, preciously wrapped around the low trees and dangling from the gleaming windows. As their ride drew to a stop right outside the grand entrance, Natsume turned to Mikan and squeezed her hand.

It was the last day of the year. Tomorrow would bring in a new year for everyone, but for Mikan, it would bring another year to her age.

Tonight was her birthday party, but also a New Year's party, hosted by yours truly Sumire Shouda. It was the last big event of the year. And yet, despite having just arrived at her own party, Mikan looked anxious. She tried to hide it with her smiles but Natsume saw right past them.

Her hands were cold despite the heating in the taxi.

This morning she had woken up with those same feelings of suspended nostalgia and dread: the way all adults feel before their birthdays. Even though she was the happiest she had ever been in her life, with Natsume by her side in their cosy apartment, her mind sadistically strayed to the darker memories of her past, obscuring the beauty and peace that was present before her. The past was stubborn like so—just when she thought it was all behind her, suddenly, it flickered in front her, haunting her, taunting her cruelly. Her past jeered at her, reminding her of what sordid revulsions she was truly capable of committing.

Her present happiness with Natsume was contrasted with the loneliness of her past. In the taxi, she couldn't help her mind distant gaze with regret at the way she had spent her last birthday. She knew that there was no point, no gain, no happiness in dwelling in the emptiness of the past, but tonight, not even Natsume's supportive squeezes could tear her eyes from the ghosts.

And as she looked out the taxi window, watching the porter who was now rushing over to welcome them, Mikan wasn't sure if she wanted to face this present either. It was an important night for Natsume and her. To Mikan, she felt their very relationship was on a brink and that Natsume had not even the faintest idea of its very monumental scale. The brink was deep, the divide severe.

Was this really the right thing to do? She knew all too well about the monsters that dwelled within these golden walls; the suffocating self-righteousness; the derisive sneers; the judgemental eyebrow raises; the acidic talking; the casual takedowns…

She was terrified that Natsume would shrink away from the absurdity and obscenity and so move away from her too.

She squeezed his hand back, tightening their hold, determined to keep him by her side.

"Everything okay?" He checked once again.

"Yes," she smiled in his direction as the taxi door opened. "Let's go."

And so, she emerged from the taxi like Botticelli's Venus, in her glorious golden dress and waited for her man. When he stood beside her, she took his hand, and together they walked into the Imperial Hotel.

Natsume thought the lavish interiors with its deep red carpets and warm lights complimented Mikan. She blended so naturally with the hotel's richness. Her golden earrings glittered when the light caught them, and Natsume could only wish the necklace that he had gotten her would do the same. With a prickle of pity, he saw just how grand the rest of her jewellery was in comparison to the 'N' necklace.

He had thought of buying her a more expensive necklace for her birthday, to replace and upgrade the 'N', but nothing within his budget was quite right or worthy. But rather than let this upset him, Natsume decided that they would share many more years and birthdays together. He had his whole life to buy her a replacement necklace, one day down the line when he was earning good money for her and the rest of their family. Besides, he was happy with his choice of gift, which lay secretively in the inside of his suit pocket. He could only hope that she felt the same way when he gave it to her later tonight, once the bells rang for the New Year and her birthday.

He was wearing the suit that she had gifted him. Initially, this pleased her immensely but when she had mentioned it, Natsume rather sheepishly told her it was the only thing suitable for the event in his whole wardrobe. This silently made her heart ache and disdain herself even more.

In the lobby, Koko, Mochu and Luca were waiting for them to arrive. They were examining the lights, the paintings—the general splendour.

They looked nervous.

Natsume smiled, relieved. It was nice to know that his friends felt just as out of place as he did.

Grinning, he called their names.

Relief washed over all their faces as they saw the two familiar and friendly faces.

"Holy shit, Mikan, you look like a—" Mochu paused, frowning. "… I was going to say 'celebrity', but I just remembered that's what you are."

"What he means is, you look absolutely lovely." Luca rectified.

Mikan laughed, doing her best to dispel the ghosts and fears. "You all look so handsome!"

Mikan then informed them all Sumire and Hotaru were already in the banquet hall, and that the two were coming to the lobby to pick them up.

Mochu immediately reacted by elbowing Koko suggestively, "You hear that? You hear that, Koko? Your lady is coming to pick you up…"

Koko looked incredibly smug as he answered, "She's not my lady, she's my friend with spectacular benefits."

It seemed that their first tryst was incredibly satisfying for both parties. Natsume had to endure the torture of listening to Koko's very graphic account of his one night stand with Sumire Shouda, about how flexible she _really_ was. "She's like a cat!" He had said, bursting with carnal pride.

Sumire had shared the details with Mikan and Hotaru too, candidly remarking over tea that she was impressed by Koko's lack of inhibition. "He was filthy, really. Wonderfully so."

Since then, Koko and Sumire often met up with each other, just two of them at night, to enjoy each other's flexibility and filthiness. It was nothing serious, just pure sexual fun.

Like Koko's genie, Sumire then appeared as if she were summoned. Hotaru too was walking towards them. Hotaru wore a bright-red pantsuit with no blouse, her lips stained red, whilst Sumire wore a little dark green slip dress. Everyone in the lobby was looking at them all, awestruck by the women's celebrity and beauty.

"Mikan! You look stunning!" Sumire pulled her friend in for a kiss. "Happy birthday, gorgeous!"

"Thanks – and hey, thanks for organizing all this—"

"You've thanked me a million times already. I know you'd rather be at home but twenty-five is an important birthday, darling. Everyone's waiting for you downstairs," she added, "but there was a complete and utter mess-up with the menu—"

Sumire spoke passionately about the caterer's horrific canapé choices as she led them all towards the banquet halls.

Everyone in the lobby stared after them, craning their heads, whispered excitedly to one another.

"Also, gentlemen," she turned to look at Luca, Mochu and Koko, "there are some unsavoury women in the crowd tonight, so make sure you don't get sucked in by them or else you'll be half a million US dollars poorer tomorrow."

Luca looked shocked. "What?"

"High-end escorts and prostitutes," Sumire airily explained with a delicate wave of her hand, "You'll know who they are. They'll be the ones trying to sell you cocaine before offering up their bodies."

The boys all glanced at each other, unsure on how to respond to this, scandalized but intrigued by this unfamiliar environment that was still hidden, at the end of this winding corridor. The lifestyle of the rich and famous was completely unknown to the boys; they had no idea what to expect once they turned the corner. Would it be just as wild, decadent and fun as Sumire always made it out to be? Perhaps as dull, insipid and vapid as Hotaru always cursed? Or maybe as hollow, empty and fake as Mikan always mourned?

Natsume had seen mere glimpses of such lifestyle whenever he had set foot into Mikan's family house: from the night they met, to the night her father had shut him out, that house always seemed to hold heavy secrets that Natsume was never quite privy to.

Sumire appeared to be in her element tonight. She was excited to soon be surrounded by people who were just as frivolous as herself. It was New Year's Eve: her plan was to have as much fun as possible, anticipating nothing less than an explosive extravaganza. It was hard to tell if Hotaru was already bored or whether she had other more pressing issues running through her mind. But Mikan noticed the way she kept glancing over. Hotaru, she knew, was nervous on her behalf. Whilst Sumire shrugged everything off, promising that everything would be swell and gorgeous, Hotaru sympathised Mikan's fears: she saw the brink, comprehending the gravity of Natsume's introduction to their world. It was not like the couple were going to formally announce themselves, but both Mikan and Hotaru knew, it would only take one quiet introduction in the banquet hall for everyone to know his name.

The corridor overflowed with wonderful flower displays as they drew closer to the destination: leading up to the banquet doors, flowers of all colour, shapes and sizes adorned the corridor, beautifully, all in celebration of Mikan's birthday. Sumire quickly explained that they were from various guests, and dropped a few names as they passed the flowers. The closer they moved towards the door, the bigger and bolder the flowers became, like an ornate crescendo anticipating the arrival of a star.

Natsume quietly thought how small the bouquet he had given to Mikan was in comparison. He suddenly felt very silly. The present he had hidden in his jacket pocket also felt very stupid too.

They stood outside the closed banquet doors. Everyone came to a halt.

"So quick summary:" Sumire turned to them all, "leave the prostitutes to the older men; don't, under any circumstances, talk to Reo Mouri about his recent rehab stint; call me if anyone is injecting anything into their veins, or, for the matter, fornicating in the bathrooms. This is the Imperial Hotel, after all. It'd be dreadful if we were to act like animals. And if you see any celebrities with their partners, don't comment on it. You haven't signed a non-disclosure agreement, but what you see in there, stays in there— _especially_ if it concerns their sexuality. Most actors and singers are gay but they are deep in the closet. Any mentions of their love lives in the papers are usually fabricated by their own PR management team, and their "girlfriends" are only paid to stay by their side so that when they get papped they give off the impression that they are straight. But, well, as you'll soon see, most of them are far from straight and their boyfriends are far cuter than their beard-girlfriends."

Luca couldn't help but blurt out, "So, they're in fake relationships? Because they can't openly say who they really love?"

Sumire only regarded his naivety with sympathy. "It's part of the illusion, darling. Next time, I'll give you a proper PR rundown and the sad truths about our heteronormative society." She then clapped her hands excitedly, "Now, time to party!"

As Sumire moved to open the doors for the grand reveal, Hotaru moved towards Luca to murmur, "Try not to act too shocked with what you see. The trick is to always look in control. Nothing can touch you that way."

Hotaru did not say this with cruel intent; Luca could hear kindness and genuine advice in her words. He thanked her and passed the message on to the others.

Natsume went through what Mikan had told him last night: _just stay by my side, introduce yourself when necessary, ignore what's unnecessary and just eat with me._ It seemed far easier and simpler when she had said all this. Now, as the doors opened, and he saw hundreds of faces turn towards them, these easy and simple words slipped from his mind.

The banquet hall erupted with cheers and a loud chorus of Happy Birthday.

Soon, the room swallowed them, and the banquet doors shut again, enclosing them all into the world of the rich and famous.

* * *

"Shit, look look look," Mochu frantically muttered under his breath, loud enough for his friends to hear, "It's Shizune Yamanouchi! I fucking worshipped her when I was seventeen…"

Luca snorted. "I'm pretty sure you continue to 'worship' her to this day."

"I won't deny it." Mochu admitted, not missing Luca's insinuations before he craned his neck to get a better look at the model. "… Fuck, she's beautiful."

"Go speak to her!"

"No way. I'd shit my pants."

"Oh _shit!_ " It was Koko's turn to frantically mutter, "Shit, guys! It's Yuu Tobita!"

That caught Natsume's attention. Their backs straight and alert, all the boys turned to stare at their favourite manga-author, who stood only a few metres away, talking to a young woman. The plot and characters of Yuu Tobita's manga were unparalleled in Japan and had been so for the past six, or seven years. Everyone loved Yuu Tobita's manga.

"Shall we go tell him how much we love his work?" Mochu asked. "Or is that weird?"

"He looks much younger than I thought he'd be," Natsume commented.

Easefully, Sumire appeared before them. "Having fun, boys?"

They had been at the party for nearly an hour now. Natsume had spent the first ten minutes with Mikan, moving around the room with her as people wished her a happy birthday to her face. So many different names and faces came and went, and Mikan's smile thinned with each passing person. Every single one of them asked her who her date was.

"This is Natsume Hyuuga," Mikan had said each time, "my boyfriend."

And every time she said that, every time she turned to look at him, her eyes softened and her smile came true.

Some had asked him follow-up questions, namely what his profession was. She would let him explain. Some cared, some did not.

Nearly an hour into the party, everyone in the hall knew his name, keeping him always in their peripheral vision.

"Shouda," Mochu asked, "who's that talking to Yuu Tobita?"

"Hmm?" She merely glanced in their directions. "Oh, that's Yura Otonashi. She's a writer. Her and Yuu get along well because both of them possess a certain imagination that's frankly out of this world."

"You think you can introduce us to Yuu Tobita?"

"If you'd like," she said, before laughing. "Out of everyone in this room, you boys want to speak to the manga writer? Gosh, you're all nerds at heart!"

"Manga over girls any day!" Mochu said, and Koko agreed heartily.

"That's certainly a healthy attitude to have in life," Hotaru joined them, smirking.

"Keeps us out of trouble," Luca replied, grinning.

"Mikan's not with you?" Natsume asked Hotaru. He turned left and right in search of her golden dress.

"Don't worry, she's in good hands," Hotaru pointed her finger. Natsume spotted Mikan talking to a senior woman who looked nothing short of regal. "Himemiya. Your parents will know of her. She was a famous _enka_ singer back in her time."

Koko gaped, his eyes wide. "Um, _what!_ Who cares about our parents— _everyone_ knows Himemiya! Her song _Like The Flow of the River_ is the backbone of Japan! Don't you go disrespecting Himemiya! Any time any day is _her_ time."

Mochu crooned too, "That's my favourite song to sing at karaoke!"

"Don't we all know that too well…" Natsume laughed, thinking of all the drunken renditions. He continued to smile in Mikan's direction, pleased that she seemed to be laughing sincerely with Himemiya.

Ten minutes ago, Mikan had been dragged off by fellow socialite, Wakako Usami, who had demanded Mikan tell _all_ about her handsome new boyfriend. "Come on, let's have a lil' girly chat! The others all want to know too!"

By others, Wakako meant a small group of socialites, who eagerly waiting for Mikan's presence.

Mikan promised that she would be back by Natsume's side as soon as she had appeased Wakako and her friends. He had been worried by the strain in her smile, but with Himemiya, she seemed herself again.

All in all, for Natsume, the evening was passing well. Mikan had always coloured these events to be dreadful, but with his friends by his side, Natsume was enjoying himself. With them, he did not feel like a fish out of water. They all marvelled together, spoke together, laughed together and incredulously guffawed together too. Not to mention, the food was top-class, the alcohol was free—all in all, signs of a good night.

He did notice the way people stared and whispered, but he was surprised at how easy he found it to shrug the attention off. The only things that mattered in this banquet hall were the people he cared for, Mikan and his friends. And Yuu Tobita.

"So, can we meet him?"

Natsume was glad that Koko brought Yuu Tobita back to the discussion.

"Of course, darling. Let us wait for him to stop conversing with Yura, though. As interesting as she is, once she gets a hold of you, she won't let you go until she's read your fortune. She always keeps a pack of tarot in her bag."

"She's known to be the wisest woman in Asia, with her wicked pack of cards," Hotaru sneered.

"Yikes. Anyone else we should stay clear of?"

"Luna Koizumi," Sumire responded.

This name caught Natsume's attention—he tore his gaze from Yuu Tobita, and looked at Sumire, eager to hear more. This was the woman Mikan had reacted so viscerally to. It took two whole days for Mikan to fully recover from that encounter.

"You mean the politician's daughter? That Koizumi?" Luca questioned. He had seen her in the newspapers, often accompanying her father at public events.

"The very one." Sumire confirmed. "Stay away from her and her posse. Her and Mikan have a really messy history, and I'm certain that Koizumi wants nothing more than to see Mikan unhappy on her birthday."

"What?" Luca made his bewilderment evident again. "She's here?"

"Oh, yes," Sumire said. "I saw her a few minutes ago wearing the most obnoxious dress from _Dior_. Hideous, really."

"I mean, why invite her? Why is she here if she doesn't get along with Mikan?" Luca sought for clarity. The boys were all curious: Luca made a valid, fair point.

"Sadly sweetie, you have to. It's just the way it is. You have to invite everyone who is anyone, even if they are a vindictive vixen— _Luna, darling!_ " Sumire suddenly exclaimed, her expression radiant but catty as she looked beyond Natsume's shoulder. "So glad that you made it tonight!"

To everyone's surprise, Luna Koizumi was standing right behind Natsume. Whether she had heard what Sumire had just been saying was uncertain, for she was smiling just as cattily, just as radiantly as Sumire. Their pretty smiles that concealed a thousand words of malice mirrored each others perfectly.

"Sumi, darling," Luna spoke, her voice low and raspy, "how lovely you look. Green was always your colour."

"Oh, yes—"

"'Jealousy is the green-eyed monster which doth mocks the meat it feeds on', wasn't it? I always you think of you when I hear that quote from _Othello_." Luna's smile was innocent, but her eyes leered tauntingly.

Sumire cleared her throat, as she straightened her back completely. "I'm not surprised that you quote Iago's line so spontaneously. You should audition. You are, after all, the perfect Iago."

Luna did not seem to care for Sumire's words. Her smile did not falter. Instead, she changed the subject and remarked, "The decorations are beautiful. So fitting for our dear Mikan."

"I came up with the concept," Sumire informed her.

"Oh?" Luna purposefully considered this for some time, before pronouncing, "It seems far too classy and refined for you, Sumi-chan. Is that your New Year's resolution? Get class? Good for you! It's been long overdue."

Her purposefully patronising tone made Sumire's nose flare. Luna only took a moment to savour this victory, for soon enough, she spotted something better, something more exciting: she recognised the man before her.

Her smile deepened as she regarded Natsume, like a predator with its prey. She tossed her glossy hair as she stepped towards him, pushing past Sumire in the process.

With Luna's back facing her, Sumire scoffed and rolled her eyes, before mouthing the word, " _Bitch_ ,"

Hotaru gripped Sumire's hand, placating her, making sure she didn't overreact to Luna's boldness.

The boys were watching the extremely peculiar and callous exchange with bated breaths, feeling the tension prickle and bubble in the air and below their feet.

Natsume remained calm, holding his impassive expression.

"I was hoping to see you again. You look dashing in that suit. Natsume, isn't it? Wakako mentioned you were a professor?"

"Hoping to be, yes."

"Physics?"

"Astrophysics," Natsume clarified.

Luna raised both her eyebrows and whistled, superficially impressed. But instead of asking more about his work, she rather airily commented, "How on earth did you meet our darling Mikan? I must say, her circles don't usually consist of scientists, or intelligent people for that matter. She's always liked rich bankers, you know the sort: crazy rich and crazy stupid. But I suppose she's always liked good-looking men, and you, dear Natsume, are nothing short of handsome. Just be careful she doesn't gobble you up too quickly. She can be greedy like that, but alas, she always ends up choking in the end."

Natsume did not plan to dislike Luna from the start. Despite Mikan's angry words and cautions that brimmed with spite and resentment, Natsume felt old enough to not dislike someone from the words of others. But at that moment, Natsume decided he did not like this Luna Koizumi at all. If her belittling comments towards Sumire weren't bad enough, these sly and malicious insults towards Mikan drew the line firmly.

At school, he was known to be taciturn and intimidating Since maturing at university, Natsume mellowed out considerably. But for the first time in a few years, he channelled his younger, colder self as he responded to Luna Koizumi.

Looking down at her, with a cool and unbothered tone, Natsume simply said, "What a strange thing to say."

He did not have to say anymore. With those simple six words, he succeeded in making Luna feel very silly. Having nothing to latch onto, nothing to criticise, demean or remark upon, Luna had no ammunition to fire. Hotaru silently commended Natsume's perceptiveness: with people like Luna, it's best not to engage in their little games, as they would only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience. Luna's strengths came from other people's discomfort, and as Natsume offered her none of that, it was her that felt uncomfortable and humiliated.

"Well then," her smile was tight, "I best go say hello to some others. It was lovely seeing you Sumi, Hotaru," Hotaru did not even acknowledge her with a small head-tilt, "and you too, of course, Professor Physics."

He saw no need in correcting her because they all knew very well that Luna was well aware that he was an astrophysicist. Natsume only found pity in her determination to contiously undermine those around her.

She moved away, passing like a bad storm.

"Fuck," Mochu exhaled.

"That was intense." Luna shook his head, still reeling in from the shock.

"What the hell is her problem?" Koko asked, baffled.

Hotaru watched Luna join a small cluster of men, who welcomed her beauty eagerly enough into their conversation. "I pity her," Hotaru announced.

"Yeah, me too." Natsume agreed.

"She comes from a very broken family." Hotaru frankly explained. It was not her intention to malevolently gossip, rather, she was just informing the boys of Luna Koizumi's circumstances, "I'm sure you've seen the news: her father is a corrupt as they come; a serious joke and threat to politics, a psychopathic liar and philanderer, lining his pockets with money from his many charities. He's been married and divorced three times. Luna had a very hard childhood, not knowing whether she belonged or whether she was even loved by her family," she turned to Natsume, and looked him straight in the eye, "like Mikan."

Koko rose to Mikan's defence. "But Mikan's not mean like _that!_ "

To the boys' surprise, neither Sumire nor Hotaru agreed with Koko's statement. Even more surprisingly, Sumire, who usually had so much to say, pressed her lips together guiltily, evasively looking up at the chandelier, as if she were scared to make eye contact and say something she would later regret.

Hotaru finally spoke, "I'm just saying Luna is in a dark place and has been there for a while now. I suspect she's hurting very deeply but chooses to act otherwise with that ridiculous façade of hers."

"Then why don't you reach out to her? Help her?" Luca asked, feeling sad then and there.

"Unless that person is willing to change, it's very hard to offer a hand. That's just the truth." Sumire said, speaking sagely as if she knew this from personal experience, "Until the moment they ask for help, they'll just keep batting and biting your hand away."

Suddenly Natsume felt two hands grab his arm. Mikan had returned, and she was smiling brightly up at him, oblivious to what had just transpired moments ago.

"Hey!" She greeted them all, beaming, happy to be back with them all. "Have you tried the mini hamburgers? They're really good! What are you guys all talking about?" She regarded all their faces, excited.

"We were plotting the best way to introduce ourselves to Yuu Tobita," Natsume quickly and easefully said, without any awkward pause or indication that this was not entirely true.

Mikan gasped. "Of course! You love his manga!" She looked left and right, in search of him. "I still need to read it…"

"I've got all the volumes at home," He reassured her, smiling warmly at her. He was glad to see she was in good spirits.

"Good! And hey, are you having fun?" Mikan asked. She extended the questions to the others too, but her heart worried most for Natsume's answer.

"Of course I am," Natsume gripped her hand. "Just introduce us to Yuu Tobita and I promise that I'll come find and worship you in our next lives and beyond."

Everyone sniggered and chortled at Natsume's words.

"Oh, I see him there!" Sumire said, pointing at the bar. Sumire led the way, and they all followed, Mikan and Natsume holding hands as they walked.

* * *

Natsume was having a great night. He got to talk to Yuu Tobita for a whole hour with his friends. About ten minutes into the conversation, the girls had excused themselves politely, clearly thinking it was best to leave the nerd-talk to the boys. They hardly understood any references anyway.

Yuu Tobita was greatly interested to learn that Natsume was an astrophysicist. He had a lot of questions regarding black holes and the possibilities of intergalactic travel in the far future. Natsume explained the science behind these concepts that were so popular in sci-fi. At this point, Yuu Tobita got his notepad out and begun jotting down notes for his own manga.

When Yuu Tobita mentioned that Mochu reminded him of his main character, _Kurosawa Retsu_ , Mochu nearly fainted from pure joy and boyhood pride. Koko indignantly disagreed, maintaining that Mochu was far less courageous than Retsu. The boys all laughed when Yuu Tobita then said Luca's physical appearance reminded him of his main heroine, _Tennoji Ayami_.

"Luca probably is the prettiest thing in this room," Koko conceded mirthfully.

Luca took no offence to this statement. He loved Ayami's character. Besides, Yuu Tobita said so, and whatever Yuu Tobita says is gospel.

As their pleasant conversation came to a close, Yuu Tobita said that he would like to meet them all again, and still had many burning questions about space that could help his manga, and so asked for their contact details.

Contact details. To Tobita _Freakin'_ Yuu. It was every boy's dream come true.

After they had said goodbyes, the boys had spent a good fifteen minutes fangirling, marvelling at Yuu Tobita's humble genius. They then nominated Natsume to go grab them some food. Natsume did not complain, for he wanted to go seek Mikan out anyway.

A voice, suddenly, spoke through the speakers as he made his way across the room. "Ladies and gents!" it was Sumire's voice. He glanced to the front of the room and saw Sumire standing directly below a big golden ball that had the New Year sprawled across it. "The New Year and Mikan's birthday is only two hours away from us now!" The room erupted with a cheer and a toast.

"And when midnight strikes," Sumire jovially continued, "this golden ball will open revealing treasures hereof untold of!"

Natsume continued his mission of finding food for him and his hungry friends. He swept the room for Mikan too; so far, he didn't catch glimpse of her gold dress. Instead, he spotted a bountiful table filled with all sorts of delicacies, tucked away in the corner, behind a large ornamental display. He made his way there swiftly, and soon was piling copious amounts of food all on one plate for him and his friends to share.

On the other side of the display came three men, all holding a drink in their hands. They were older—in their thirties, perhaps—donned in expensive suits. He took no notice of them (and they, very clearly, did not see him behind the golden display) until he heard one of them mention Mikan's name. From then onwards, he could hear their voices very clearly.

"—see her new boyfriend? What a joke, huh?"

"Luna said he's her new boy-toy. Honestly, she's insatiable!"

"Where do you suppose she found this one?"

"With that irritatingly handsome face? He's _obviously_ an escort," one said in a droll manner, causing the other two to snicker. "Birds of a feather, right?" They all continued to chortle amusedly.

"You're right: she was practically a prostitute herself—remember her at eighteen?" the other piped up. "Fresh and tight, desperate to do it with anyone?"

"I heard she used to do it with her father's friends."

"I don't doubt that for a second. I'm sure she even did it with her father's friends' _fathers_."

The laughter was raucous now.

"She used to be such fun…" one sighed longingly, "You always knew you were at the right party if Mikan Sakura was there, dancing like a bitch in heat, doing cocaine!"

"Those were the years!"

"Too bad she thinks she's better than her past these days. Honestly? If you ask me, it's embarrassing to see her trying to act like a good girl when we all know how filthy she really is."

"How could she not be? It's in her genes. Her mother is the definition of hot filth."

"I miss the old Mikan Sakura."

"Well, at least we still have Luna."

"It was more fun when they were bad together. They made such a good pair."

"Speaking of pairs, where's Mikan's fiancé these days? Not in town?"

"New York, I think. Or London, with her brother. One or the other."

"I didn't know she was still engaged to Tsubasa."

"Of course they are. Their parents decided so years ago."

Their conversation continued, but Natsume could no longer hear. The room felt as if it were spinning under his feet, swaying like a boat in the middle of the ocean—he felt very sick, almost as if he had drunk too much. He closed his eyes. The sounds of clinking glass, forks scrapping plates, shrieks of laughter echoed horribly in his mind. He closed his eyes, placing the plate on the table, whilst his other hand pinched the skin between his eyebrows. He needed to calm down, fast, but he felt himself sinking into total despair. He could hardly draw breath, and when he finally did, it was shaking.

He opened his eyes and tried stepping away from this nightmare.

He was startled when someone grabbed his hand. It was Hotaru.

Hotaru looked extremely concerned; by that expression alone, Natsume could decipher that she knew exactly what he had just overheard.

"Is it true?" He needed to know. He needed to know now. "What they said? Is it true? She's engaged?"

Hotaru saw heartbreak in Natsume's eyes. He was hurting. He clearly felt betrayed. She did not know what to say, and her drawn-out silence all but confirmed that this was the truth.

He swore under his breath out of sheer desperation, his eyes clenched shut. It took a moment for him to recover, but when he next opened his eyes, they were unfriendly.

"And you all knew? But no one thought to tell me? Why didn't _she_ tell me?"

"It's complicated," Hotaru finally said, her grip tightening, unwilling to let him go without a proper explanation, "You need to understand how our families operate—"

Natsume shook her off, his expression marred with disgust. "I'm sickof hearing about these family obligations. Don't speak to me like I'm an ignorant idiot. You know better than that."

Hotaru did not falter despite his tone, "Hyuuga, this is important. You need to listen. Or better, you need to go speak directly to Mikan about this. She'll explain."

"She'll explain why she failed to tell me that she's engaged?" The betrayal Natsume felt took control in an attempt to soothe his deep hurt. His expression was one of cold fury, but inside, he was crying like a child.

He was utterly heartbroken.

"I know you're upset, and with good reason. But—"

"I'm going to the restroom." At that moment, he had no interest to listen to excuses. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone to confront this painful revelation. He wanted to cry, alone. "Then, I'm going home, back to my father's. Tell the others I got sick."

He bid Hotaru an unfeeling goodbye and happy new year and before she could stop him, he left to go to the toilets. He genuinely felt as if he were going to retch.

When he locked the door to the restroom, finally, the pain ripped his heart in two. He felt as if he were drowning, suffocating. All this time, she was engaged to another. He felt so foolish—he had promised half his life to her, promised that they would one day wed and have kids. Why had she played along? Was she just coddling his foolish fantasies? Was she just biding her time with him as she waited for her fiancé to return from abroad? All along, had he just been a resting stop for her, not the true destination?

"Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck,_ " he cursed, his hands gripping the sink basin.

He felt like a child again. He wanted to go home and cry to his mother.

"Fuck!"

It took a few minutes for him to collect himself, and pick himself up.

He wanted to go home, sleep and hide in his childhood bed.

He gripped his chest. He felt Mikan's present there.

He didn't know he was capable of feeling so much hurt.

When he unlocked and opened the door, he was shocked to see Mikan there. His heart jolted; when he saw worry and concern in her face, his heart even melted a little bit, pleading his anger to forget what he had just overheard.

"Are you alright? What's wrong? Hotaru said you weren't feeling well—"

"Mikan. Tell me straight, please. Are you engaged?"

Her cheeks flushed with shame. Her eyes widened. Her mouth fell open, but no words came. Some part of him had hoped that she would incredulously laugh and ask where he had heard such a bizarre rumour from, but her reactions confirmed to Natsume what he feared. She did not immediately deny it because it was the truth: Mikan Sakura was engaged to someone else in the world.

"… Natsume, please—"

"I don't want to hear it. At least, not now." He stepped away from her.

"No, Natsume—you don't understand! Please, wait—"

"It's not true, then?"

"Well, technically it is true but," she grabbed his arm as he turned away from her, "Natsume, please! I'm not going to marry him! I'm not, I swear it!"

He snapped his head back in her direction, his eyes upset, his expression devastated.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Mikan was frantic. Her heart rate was increasing with every second. Desperately, her grip tightened.

"I-I—" she stammered, at a loss for words, her mind exploding as it sought for the exact right thing to say so Natsume would not leave her side. It failed completely, and she couldn't help but blurt, "I didn't think it was important—"

She knew it was the completely wrong thing to say before she had even finished the sentence.

"You didn't think it was important?" Natsume repeated, shocked at her words. He searched her face for answers: all he saw were her tears, and they did not explain anything. His hurt only deepened. "All this time, you thought it was okay for you to keep this from me? You must think nothing of my feelings."

"That's not true!" She cried, "I just—I—I mean, I have _no intention_ of marrying him, so I didn't think I needed to bring him up! He means nothing to me, and he has no part in our future! I swear to you!"

"But your family expects you to marry this man?" Natsume probed for answers. She faintly nodded. He closed his eyes, defeated.

"I don't care what my family wants. They don't control me. I can do what I want—I'm my own person, and I've got my own money. I'm not marrying Tsubasa. I'm going to marry _you_."

"… Is this what you argued about with your father that day? That day you came to my family home for the first time?"

"No, that was about something else… but it did concern you."

Natsume opened his eyes.

She was looking at him, her hands reaching for his arms. He moved away.

She stopped herself from sobbing.

"That day," she spoke, her voice small and nervous, "I told my father that I named you as the beneficiary of my future assets and finances."

Natsume's jaw fell open. He was dumbstruck.

"…What!" Finally, he exclaimed. "Why would you do that!"

"It's my money!" Mikan response was fierce with determination. "I can do what I want with it, and I want _you_ to have it if anything should happen."

"What…" Natsume's hands covered his hands. He couldn't believe what he was just hearing. "… What else don't I know?" He asked her this in such a mournful voice.

"… I bought our flat in your name. Legally, it's yours. I bought it as a legal 'gift' for you."

"Mikan…" He didn't know what to say or think. He just felt so tired. "Why didn't you tell me all these things?"

"I was going to! But you reacted so poorly to my suggestion that I pay for your and your sister's fees that I thought it was best for you not to know—"

"Stop. Please, just stop." Natsume still hid his face from her. He did not want to look at her right now.

"I know that I was in the wrong that time I asked to pay for the fees," he could hear the tears in her voice, "but my decision to name you as beneficiary was my choice and—"

"I'm just so hurt you didn't think to tell me all this. About your engagement. About naming me in your will," he listed, "and then also buying a flat in my name. These are big decisions that not only affect your life but mine as well. Why didn't you tell me?" She tried to answer him, but he continued, "Am I just an emotional blanket to you? Someone you just use to get away from it all when things get too tough? You've hardly considered my feelings at all when making these decisions. I think I'm justified to say that you've been unfair to me. I'm not your escape door, Mikan."

"Natsume, of course you're not," she sobbed pleadingly.

"Mikan, you're my world. And I… I don't want to be just an escape route from your world. I want to mean more to you than just that."

"You do, you _do_ mean more… Natsume, please,"

He finally looked at her with tired eyes. His heart ached to see her cry.

"I'm sorry Mikan, but I'm going to my dad's place tonight. I need to… yeah," he made to move, but then he stopped, remembering something. He fumbled for her present in his inner pocket before he pulled it out. He had wrapped it up, put a sticker on it, and placed her birthday card on top. He passed it to her, and she took it with shaking hands. "This is for you. I'll see you."

He walked away.

He walked away from the banquet hall, from the flowers, the decorations, the people, the drinks, the wealth, the fame, away from the Imperial Hotel, and away from Mikan. He took the train home in his suit. He felt like crying the entire journey home. He couldn't bring himself to look at his phone, in fear of seeing her name.

Perhaps he would never understand her world, the stupid excess and extravagance, her family's expectations and deceit. But all he wanted… was her.

* * *

 **A/N:** Dun-dun-dun.

The details of Mikan's past will come up soon.

Also, just wanted to take this moment to thank **JustAgirl** – your review really helped in motivating to write this, so thank you so much! Thank you so much for taking your time to review so thoroughly, even though English isn't your native tongue. I was really touched. I hope Mikan and Natsume's fight in this chapter didn't make your heart ache too much though. Lots of love, and thank you very much.


	17. Happy New Year

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Seventeen: Happy New Year**

* * *

Mikan had called after him as he walked away; but he did not turn back, almost as if he did not hear her beseeching pleas.

 _I'm losing him_.

Everything blurred for her. Time seemed to stop and start. She tried to call out his name again, but no words came. Her breath was rasping in her throat, painfully, unable to pass through easily. The present and the card that he had given her were slipping out of her hands—

Hotaru saved her.

Hotaru took her free hand and held it tightly, and slowly led her to the restrooms, so Mikan could be alone, away from any unwanted, prying eyes.

She felt awful for what had transpired, and stayed beside Mikan, rubbing her back soothingly.

Mikan had nothing to say. Only sobs left her lips.

Sumire found them in the bathroom soon enough. At first, not knowing something was wrong, she demanded to know why Mikan wasn't out enjoying herself. Then, she saw the tears.

"Oh, God. What did Luna do now?"

"It's not Koizumi." Hotaru said. Then, she explained, "Hyuuga found out about Tsubasa."

The demanding look in Sumire's expression faded. "Oh…" she averted her eyes and bit her lip. "That's not good. He took it badly?"

"He _left_." Mikan choked, closing her eyes. "He's gone."

"Oh…" Sumire then sighed, not knowing what was the best thing to say or do in this particular situation. "Honey, I'm so sorry…"

"It's my fault." Mikan lamented, shaking her head, feeling the heavy blame on her shoulders. "I should have told him. You were both right," she looked in the mirror, and looked at her friends' reflections. "I should have told him months ago."

Her two friends didn't say anything, feeling no need to gloat and dangle an 'I told you so' to their friend. It was true; they had warned Mikan of the consequences of not telling Natsume the truth, insisting that ignoring it or pretending her family's arrangement with Tsubasa's family wasn't important didn't make it go away. But Mikan had stubbornly told them that she had it under control and that it didn't matter anyhow as she wasn't going to marry Andou Tsubasa.

"I thought by keeping in the dark, I was keeping him safe, but now I realise I was only keeping myself safe and him ignorant. I'm so stupid and selfish…" Mikan hung her head low, terribly ashamed. "I shouldn't have kept him in the dark."

Sumire sighed again, very heavily, before she leaned on the basin so she could face Mikan's face.

"I think you should just tell him everything."

Hotaru slowly nodded. "I agree."

"He doesn't want to speak to me," Mikan felt her eyes well up again. "He probably hates me." Her voice broke at the end of her statement, as she covered her streaming eyes with her hands.

"He's hurt," Hotaru corrected, "that doesn't mean that he hates you. He just needs some space to lick his wounds."

"He _adores_ you, darling," Sumire said, taking hold of Mikan's shoulders. "His friends told me so—they _always_ say so. And even if I didn't hear it from their mouths, I can tell just by the way he treats you. He's smitten, so much so that he was probably crushed when he heard about Tsubasa: that's why he left, not because he hates you. That's why you need to tell him everything and explain everything."

"I keep on hurting him," Mikan whimpered, one day holding onto Sumire's hand for support.

"It's time for you to disclose everything, Mikan," Hotaru said with a tone of finality. "He hurting because you keep things from him. Omitting facts is not the same as lying, but it's not the right thing to do either. That doesn't mean you have to write an autobiography for him—of course not. I just think some details in your life affect Hyuuga too: _those_ are the details he should be privy to."

Mikan continued to cry for a few more minutes, unable to say anything, regret gnawing at her heart.

"He needs space," she finally said, as she determinedly wiped the corners of her eyes, cleaning up her smudged mascara, "He said he's going to his dad's tonight. I'm going home and wait for him to get back."

A scared voice in her mind told her that he might never come back. She did her best to ignore it for now.

"Wait, now?!" Sumire asked as Mikan collected herself, standing straight again. "Mikan, it's your birthday so soon!"

"I'm sorry. I know that you organised tonight for me. I'm being selfish, _again_. But I'll do better next year, I promise. I think both you and Hotaru would have a better night without me here. I don't want you to spend your New Year wiping my tears in the bathroom."

Kindly, Hotaru helped fix Mikan's hair. "Want me to come?"

Mikan shook her head. "Apologise to the boys, won't you?"

"What do I say to them?" Sumire asked, concerned.

"The truth. Tell them Natsume and I fought." Mikan said before she corrected, "Or, rather, Mikan was an idiot and hurt Natsume again."

Sumire winced. "I won't say that. Don't be absurd."

Even though she had just picked herself up, Mikan felt like crying all over again.

She couldn't believe how quickly her night had crumbled before her very eyes. She had actually been enjoying herself— _for_ once—she had interesting conversations with people, catching up with many faces she had not seen for a few months. Having Natsume in her vicinity had made all the difference to her. She had been so happy to see him tall and proud beside her, unflinching, resolute but also kind and smiling. She had been so worried about him tonight, but to think it was _her_ that ruined the night for them, not anyone else. She could only pray that her relationship with Natsume was still intact, and not in tatters.

"Mikan," Hotaru called, holding her hand out, "here. You nearly dropped these." It was Natsume's present and card.

"Thank you," Mikan took a hold of them and clutched them to her chest. "I must have dropped them when…" her sentence trailed off pathetically.

It was nearly their one-year anniversary. They could not end _, not now, please not now, please not ever_.

* * *

As Natsume stood outside the door to his family home, he wondered if Aoi was home. _Probably not_ , he realised, _it's New Year's Eve. She's probably out with friends_. His father might even be out. He still kept the keys to his family home on his keychain.

It was cold; his hand was shaking so much that it took him a while to finally open the door.

He let himself in, and now safe and warm indoors, he felt himself choke up again.

"Aoi? Is that you?"

It was his father's voice. The light was on down in the corridor, in the living room. Like a lost and desperate child, Natsume went to his dad, seeking familial comfort.

Ioran was reading a book on the couch when he saw Natsume. Immediately, from his son's expression, he knew something was wrong.

"Natsume? Are you alright?" He put his book down quickly and stood up. He went to his son, clasping him on the shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Natsume held his father's arms and pushed himself in his arms. "I'm sorry, dad," he cried.

Worried, Ioran hugged his son back. "What's wrong? What's happened?" He felt the way his son's shoulders shook from grief.

It had been many years since his son had hugged him like this. The last time had been at Kaoru's funeral. Then, he was still young; his body still small and thin. Now, as he embraced his son, Ioran noticed Natsume's broadness and strength. His child was grown up, taller and broader than him… but Natsume would always be his little boy; his strong, little boy who had done so much for their little family.

"Come… let's make you some tea. Let's talk."

Ioran knew that tonight was Mikan's party and that it was her birthday tomorrow. Natsume, after all, had asked for Ioran's permission when selecting Mikan's gift. He had given his blessing, knowing the item would be in happier in Mikan's hands.

He deduced that something must have happened at the party; something drastic, something terrible for Natsume to come home, crying, only an hour before midnight, before Mikan's birthday…

When he set the cups of tea on the table and sat down, Ioran finally asked, "What happened?"

Natsume cleared his throat. His eyes were red and swollen. "I don't know where I stand in her life anymore." Natsume did not need to name her; Ioran knew that he meant Mikan. "I don't think my feelings are enough. I don't think they weigh anything compared to what already surrounds her."

"I'm sure that's her decision to make, Natsume. Not yours," his father's words were soft and comforting. It encouraged Natsume to speak more, and he did so after a sip of tea.

"She lives a different life when I'm not around." That was all he could say, his voice thick and heavy. A minute later, he finally revealed, "She's engaged to someone else."

At this, Ioran looked very concerned. He put down his cup. "… Mikan didn't mention this to you before?"

Natsume shook his head. "She wasn't even the one who told me. I heard others talking about it at the party."

"Maybe it's not true then?"

"I asked her. It's true."

Ioran breathed heavily through his nose, his lips pressed together, lowering his eyes. He felt very upset and sad on his son's behalf.

"I'm so sorry, Natsume. You must be heartbroken."

"She said that she wasn't going to marry this guy. And then she told me some other things I didn't know about. I just don't know what to believe in anymore." He didn't know who to believe either. He had always like objective facts, but so much of her fame and reputation were constructed so loosely, so subjectively. He felt as if everything had slipped away. "I'm sure, by now, you know that she's famous…"

Natsume had never breached this topic with his father. His father had never mentioned it to him either.

Ioran nodded thoughtfully. "Aoi did mention it at the beginning. I didn't know her name, but I would have recognised her."

Natsume was surprised to hear this. He had assumed that his father was even more oblivious to the gossip columns than him.

"Really?"

"Yes. Mikan is the spitting image of her mother, Yuka Sakura." Ioran now smiled softly, "I suppose you're wondering how I even know who Yuka Sakura is. Well, did you know, Natsume, that your mother was a big fan of Yuka Sakura?"

It was the first time he had heard this.

"…Really?"

Ioran laughed lightly. "Yes, really. Isn't that funny? When I saw Mikan for the first time, I thought your mother was playing a trick on me from the next world. I suppose, perhaps, she was. I wouldn't be surprised if she had a hand in your match-making. She always wanted you to find love and be happy." Ioran clasped Natsume's hand warmly, missing his dear wife. He returned to the subject of Yuka Sakura, "Your mother thought Yuka Sakura was beautiful. Your mother was pregnant with you when some of the scandals concerning Yuka Sakura and Mikan's father were headlined, and she would often read magazines during her maternity leave. Kaoru would then summarise what she had read, explaining all the details to me. She felt very sorry for Yuka Sakura's situation and Mikan's older brother, who, at the time, was the only child. She would then say funny little things about how she would always treat you right, and make me promise that I'd do just that too."

Natsume felt his eyes welling up. He missed his mother so much. He felt so thankful that his mother had kept this promise to him until her very last moment. Yet, at the same time, his heart ached for Mikan, knowing what kind of mother Yuka Sakura had turned out to be for Mikan.

"In this materialistic world, people think money is an indicator of happiness. That is wrong. That is merely an illusion. The pursuit of money is a hollow one. It is hard work that creates contentment and love that creates fulfilment. That love should always extend to yourself too. And Natsume, I am proud to say that my son is both loving and loved, by his family, friends and Mikan too. What's real is _that_ and only that. Not the money, not the status, not the fame. What's important is bringing others happiness and feeling happy yourself."

Natsume gripped his father's hand tightly. His father smiled at him gently.

"You're blessed, Natsume."

"I am," Natsume finally agreed. "You must miss mum every day."

"No more than you and Aoi, I'm sure." Ioran replied. He added, "Your mother made me feel things that I won't ever feel again in this life. I just have to wait until I'm on the other side, with her, forever."

"Don't leave us too soon," Natsume said, half-joking, half-serious, smiling through tears.

Ioran laughed, happy to hear his son's teasing tone. Then, he concluded, "I suppose what I'm trying to say is, don't let other people's view of her change the way you see her. Rely on your own heart. Listen to her and make sure she listens to you. What you have is as special as it gets, so it would be a great shame and tragedy to see it go."

Natsume nodded and cleared his throat. He lowered his eyes to the ground, deep in thought. He remarked, "I can't believe mum liked Yuka Sakura."

"Oh, yes. Where do you suppose Aoi gets it from?"

Natsume laughed. "I hadn't thought about that."

"Yes," Ioran reminisced distantly, "your mother thought Yuka Sakura had wonderful eyes. Mikan has the same eyes," he commented, coming back to the present. He grinned, "Secretly, I'm convinced that your mother had a word with the gods and demanded that you two find each other."

"I wouldn't be surprised if mum had a say in my fate," Natsume joked, remembering how fiercely his mother would protect and fight on Natsume's behalf for his best interests.

Suddenly the house phone rang. Ioran went to go pick it up. It was Aoi, wishing her father a happy new year. Ioran wished her back and told her that he was very proud of her that he loved her very much. Natsume could faintly hear Aoi's laughing voice leaking through the telephone.

It was the New Year. It was Mikan's birthday. A pain shot through his heart and mind, demanding him what he was doing away from her side.

And Aoi's muffled voice reminded him of something she had said to Mikan the first time they had met…

 _Natsume used to be that asshole who broke up with people on their birthdays_.

He drained his cup of tea and stood up. His family strengthened him: his father's wisdom, his mother's presence and Aoi's words from the past.

Ioran saw this, and smiled, relieved. He had just hung up the phone.

"Happy new year, Natsume."

"Happy new year, dad."

"I think you have somewhere you need to be."

Natsume nodded. He then moved to his father to embrace him again, to thank him for always being so understanding and kind, for watching over him and his little sister.

He wasn't going to be that asshole who left the woman he loved on her birthday. This was Mikan, the woman he planned on marrying. He could not do that to her. He was no longer that asshole: that asshole was someone from the past, just as the Mikan those three men talked about was too. The future was waiting for them.

As he moved to close the front door, he spotted his father's painting of his mother in the corridor. He smiled, and even waved at it before saying goodbye and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Natsume bounded up the stairs to their home.

He quickly opened their front door, unsure whether or not Mikan would be there, or whether she would still be at the Imperial Hotel. All he knew was that their home was where he should be, where he belonged in that very moment.

The lights were on.

Mikan was on the couch, still wearing his gold dress, crying. She looked up at him, stunned—so stunned that her breathing momentarily halted. They stared at each other, Mikan breathless, and Natsume breathing irregularly.

"Happy birthday, Mikan," Natsume finally pierced the suspended silence, "I'm sorry—"

The emotions finally broke and poured, and Mikan stood up, moving towards him, crying, "I thought I lost you—"

Natsume pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She cried, clutching him.

"I'm sorry, Natsume. I'm sorry. It's my fault. You have every reason to be angry with me."

He tried to apologise for leaving her on her birthday, but she did not let him finish, insisting that he should not apologise for anything. He maintained that he still should not have left so suddenly, so abruptly, without sitting down to speak to her properly first. He apologised for his rashness, and his impulsive behaviour of fleeing to shield his own pride. Mikan shook her head vigourously, contending that he had every right to do so and that his reaction was appropriate for her transgressions.

"I left after you did. I wanted to give you space, so I didn't follow you to your father's. I came back here and—" she motioned towards the coffee table.

Natsume saw his card and his present placed there, unwrapped.

"Thank you so much for the present and card," she whimpered, so sad but so happy. "No-one's ever written a card for me. And the present… all I could think about was what and who I would take photos of if you left me."

He had given her an old vintage film camera. It had belonged to his mother back in the 1980s. It was the very same camera that his mother had taken all those photos of him and Aoi when they were children. It was a very precious keepsake.

"It's so thoughtful and kind of you to give me your mother's camera. I'll treasure it, I promise. I swear it, Natsume."

He stroked her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ears. "We'll take photos of us and our family with it."

Mikan choked at his words, overwhelmed, as she nodded and pressed her face against his chest again. She apologised again for everything, for concealing things from him, for her selfishness.

Once the rawness ebbed, the breathing stabilised and the trembling stopped, they sat on the couch, looking at each other as they spoke.

"So, you really bought this flat for me? I'm your beneficiary?"

She nodded, still trying her best to stop sniffing. "I… I decided to change my will the day after I met your friends. Jii-chan," she cleared her throat, "he told me what my father said to you that night. I made my decision that morning."

Natsume felt like crying again. Mikan crawled towards him and hugged him very tightly. He held her in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I kept you in the dark, about so many things. But I want you to know that I'm completely yours and I've always been true, only to you. I'm just so sorry that I keep hurting you."

"I'll tell you everything," Mikan continued, moving away so she could look into his face. She could not do this half-heartedly; she needed to be completely honest.

"You don't need to, Mikan. Just knowing that you're mine is enough for me. I have no intention to judge your past—"

Mikan shook her head, disagreeing. "No, I should tell you. Because, the truth is, I'm still not completely over the past. The… the _trauma_ ," she couldn't think of a better term, "keeps appearing in my present. Just when I think it's sunk, it resurfaces before my very eyes. And anything in my present affects you. You saw how poorly I reacted against Luna that other day."

Natsume still looked uncertain. "It's your birthday," he softly said, "of all the days, you don't need to do this today."

"I don't want to sweep this under the rug," Mikan answered, "it'll just linger and follow me."

Natsume considered her feelings. He nodded, and let her continue.

Mikan inhaled, readying herself for the internal battle that was sure to commence. "I was formally introduced to Andou Tsubasa when I was sixteen years old. Before this, I had heard his name floating in and out of my house—he was a year younger than my brother, and they had gone to the same school and played in the same rugby team. My father also knew his father well: they conducted a real estate business venture together in the late 90s. As a child, I was told that Andou Tsubasa might be my future husband. I didn't take much note of it then. After all, my father had also mentioned many other potential future husbands along the way. But when I was sixteen and met Andou Tsubasa for the first time… well, I guess there's no better way to say it but he was my first love. A puppy love," she corrected out of consideration towards Natsume, but he did not mind hearing this at all.

"You don't need to justify anything, Mikan," Natsume kindly reassured her. "Don't censor yourself for my sake."

"… Well, I was sixteen. I had never had a boyfriend before at this point—nothing serious, at any rate. And to suddenly be presented a fiancée, who older and good-looking… well, to say I completely freaked out in pure excitement àla Aoi is an understatement. I was beyond thrilled— _here's my Prince_ , I thought, _here to whisk me off my feet and save me from my family_. And you know, all these years later, especially after meeting you and sharing what we have shared, I can 100% say that I was never actually in love with him—I was just infatuated by the idea of him and our happily ever after. At the age sixteen, you just want your happily ever after _then_ and _there_. You don't realise how long life is. Everything just seems so important at sixteen. You think you're an adult, but you're not. At sixteen, you're still young, inexperienced and naïve, ignorant of the world, and yet, you crave everything."

Natsume considered his own sixteenth year. Studious and quiet, unless in the presence of his friends. But it was also the year he became conscious of the other sex too. He could only imagine how one would feel to not only have a boyfriend but a fiancée at such a young and trying age.

"I was sixteen, he was twenty. He must have thought me to be a silly little thing, squealing and blushing. At the time I thought I was being cute, but he only saw me as Kaname's irritating little sister. After meeting him, I always reached out to him, but he always kept me at an arm's length. I," at this point, Mikan was flushed with shame; "I would call him non-stop whilst he was at university. I would say things that I hoped would make him jealous and come see me. Nothing would work, of course. And to my great disappointment, after he graduated, he decided to move to London to work with my brother. I was eighteen at this point, and the prospect of marriage seemed more real than it did at sixteen. At this point, the plan was that we would get married after he returned to Japan, when I was in my mid-twenties. I kicked up a _huge_ fuss, and very impulsively, after I graduated from high school, I booked myself a ticket to London, determined to go visit him and… well," she cleared her throat, "to lose my virginity to him. I thought offering _myself_ would be a sure way to win his heart—at least," her voice wavered and broke, "that's what all those stupid films and books taught me: give him your virginity and you'll have his heart."

"Fuck the patriarchy," Natsume proclaimed, frowning deeply, "spewing bullshit to deceive and subjugate women."

Mikan lightly laughed, before her smile dimmed and she sniffed. "Yeah. Fuck the patriarchy." She echoed, reaching for his hand. She remembered how she had waxed her entire body the evening before boarding the plane, enduring the immense pain, all in hopes to impress Tsubasa.

"What I didn't know, was that throughout our entire "engagement", and even before I had met him, Tsubasa had always been in love with a girl called Misaki. Misaki Harada is his childhood friend. His family were close friends with hers, until the Lehman Brothers collapse in 2008. The Harada lost nearly everything, and because of that, many families including the Tsubasa's cut ties with them."

Natsume was appalled to hear of such coldness. He would never abandon his friends like so.

"And what I didn't expect was to find Misaki living with Tsubasa in his flat in London. I caused a huge scene, accusing him of cheating on me, crying like a banshee. But then, to my utter shock, Misaki started screaming and crying too, demanding that I never touch Tsubasa and that I give him back to her." Mikan exhaled shakily, closing her eyes, not wanting to remember the vivid details of that night. "Now, I understand her. At the time I didn't, but now I really do. Misaki loves Tsubasa with all her heart, and it destroys her to know that despite her strong feelings towards him, he will ultimately marry another."

Natsume's heart started to beat, dread and worry returning. "Why can't he just marry her? Are his parents forbidding him to do so? With force, I mean?" _Will your parents force you to marry him?_

Mikan sensed where this question came from and leaned closer to him, soothing his fears. "No one can force someone to marry someone they don't want to marry—not in this day and age in Japan. But what families like mine tend to do is threaten their children with money—that is, they tell their children that they will disown them and cut off their funds. And for Andou Tsubasa, being a Tsubasa is more important than being with Misaki Harada. After I left his flat," she continued her journey into her past, "I checked-in to a nearby hotel, and later that evening he came to see me. I thought that meant he had chosen me. Instead," she swallowed, "he told me that he would never love me and that Misaki would always be in life but he still wanted to go through with our marriage, for our families' sake. He said that he did not want to disappoint his father and my father, and that an alliance between our families would be incredibly profitable. He also mentioned my brother, saying that he enjoyed working with him. That's when I realised that throughout all these years, my brother must have known about Misaki too, but had never bothered to tell me. Either way, that night, he didn't talk about me once—just about my father and brother, and their expectations and hopes. Not once did he mention my dreams. He just advised that I get used to the idea of him being with Misaki during the course of our marriage."

"So…" Natsume's voice was small, so hurt on her behalf, "he wants to marry you but be with another woman?"

"Yes," Mikan confirmed. "He wants me to be his status-wife. He also wants a child from me," she added, remembering more details from that evening, "he wants a son."

"How could anyone be okay with that? You, and even Harada-san," Natsume could not believe that such selfishness really existed. "That's barbaric."

"He has no respect for women," Mikan murmured, silently wiping the tears that had accumulated in her eyes, "no regard or respect. After he said that to me, I sent him off. My fantasy was completely wrecked: it felt so hollow, and so _angry_ —even on Misaki's behalf. Up until that point, I really did think there was hope out there. It shattered that evening, and I just became so resentful towards everyone in my life. I felt that everyone was my enemy and that I was completely alone in this world. I… well, I spiralled after that. I changed. I came back to Japan a different person. I no longer had faith or trust in anyone, and I was convinced that the only person you could rely on was yourself. I was morbidly disillusioned, and from them, I could only find solace in drugs and alcohol. I fell into bad company…"

She stopped talking, finding it difficult to continue. Those years were the worst of her life.

"I stopped hanging out with Hotaru and Sumire. I was horrible to them… I was so convinced that they would betray me, and I thought it was best to cut ties with them. I started to hang out with Luna Koizumi instead. We did some horrible, _horrible_ things together…"

Natsume remembered those three men from the party. From their conversation and the way she uncomfortably fidgeted, he could deduce the gist of it. He did not want her to feel humiliation, so he grabbed her hand and swiftly assured her, "Don't worry. You don't need to say."

"I hurt people. I betrayed people. I was out of control. I thought that if the world is so corrupt and shit, it was better to dance with the devil and not care than to be good and struggle. It's a miracle that the papers never really got a whiff of all this," she suddenly remarked, shaking her head, "but, of course, everyone in our circle was well-aware with what was happening. Hotaru and Sumire tried to reach out to me, but I threw their kindness right back in their faces many times. It's strange—I didn't want to associate myself with people who were kind to me. Instead, I continued to hang out with people who were cruel to me; who openly laughed at the expense of my pain and humiliation; who made me do things that were wretched. This lasted for a year and a bit—all until I was just a husk of a human being, utterly hollow, as if everything inside me had been scooped out empty. I didn't recognise who I was anymore. It was not a glorious epiphany moment though: it was a heartwrenching episode of complete self-loathing. And so, after this, I cut Luna from my life and shut myself away. I decided to quietly focus on my studies instead and spent most of my time hiding in my house, not knowing how to face the world anymore. Those were very lonely months, and though I couldn't quite still figure out who I was as a person, I found the outline of myself again."

A quiet, sad but pensive silence hushed between them.

"Luna was just as broken as me." Mikan then said in a quiet, small voice. "She hates me so much now because I left her and moved on. She wanted me to stay broken with her."

"Do you think she'll ever change?"

"I did," Mikan answered, "Well, I'm trying. There's hope for her yet. But I don't think we could ever be true friends—there are too many wounds between us."

Natsume understood what she was saying. He returned to the narrative. "Then you graduated?"

She paused to recall the sequence of events. "Well, before I graduated, Hotaru reached out to me again. I took the hand that she offered me, albeit very tentatively. That was my first step. Around this time, Sumire was going through a very bad cocaine stint. Even though we had not spoken in months, I decided to go see her with Hotaru. We reconnected after that. Now I think about it, it was very openhearted of her to let me back so quickly, especially after my behaviour towards her. Despite this, I was still convinced that they would hurt me if they got too close. I kept both Hotaru and Sumire at an arm's length" she then looked into Natsume's eyes, holding their gazes, "until you. After meeting you, I learned to trust them again."

"It wasn't me—"

"It was. You might never believe me, but it was all thanks to you. You softened my heart." Her head softly fell into his chest. "I can see myself again… but sometimes, I lose myself."

"It's a good thing I'm always here to find you then." Natsume tilted her chin up so she could peek up at me.

Her eyes were welling up again. "I'm not going to marry Tsubasa. I'm yours only." She very clearly stated, not letting her tears hinder her resolution.

"And that's okay for you to do?" His voice was purposefully strong, hiding his fears. "Your family?"

"Our engagement was never made public. Only our circles know about it. So, there'll be no public backlash, so my father won't lose face, just a business opportunity. But I don't care what they or my father have to say. He doesn't care for my happiness, and I am determined to be happy with you."

"You're not in contact with this Tsubasa?" He asked, keeping his voice as steady as he could. His heart was beating fast, worried about her answer, knowing that she would be honest with him.

"No, I'm not." She replied; it was the truth. "I haven't spoken directly to him in years. My father and brother sometimes pass a message from him, but I don't care for them."

Natsume was relieved to hear this. He tried not to let this relief show too ostentatiously though. He then considered her words and thought of the sacrifices she might have to make if she were to stay with him.

"Will your father disown you?" he asked, his eyes unwavering.

She all but shrugged. "Even if he did, I have enough money of my own to last me a lifetime. I have Hotaru on my side too—she's already advised me what I should invest in and such. Besides, I don't care for my family name anyway; it's yours I want."

It still upset him to hear this. He wondered if there would ever be a time in the future where her family will apologise to her, where they could peacefully reconnect. Woefully, he could not foresee it. He feared that they would pass on to the next life without having resolved all their issues. Some hurt just go too deep.

"And it's mine you'll get." He promised her. They smiled at each other. "Come," he stood up from the couch and held out his hand. "Let's go to bed. We can continue there,"

She took his hand, and followed him to their bedroom. There, they spoke some more: about her past, about their present and about their future. Natsume also spoke about her birthday, wishing her everything good. He told her he would make it up to her, for leaving her at her party. They wished each other a happy new year, promising to be together and happy. Mikan told him she wanted to go buy some film for the camera tomorrow. He told her that he would pay for her first camera roll. They kissed; it was a sweet first kiss of both her birthday and the New Year, that promised that there was only more to come.

* * *

 _Dear Mikan,_

 _Happy 25th birthday, my love. I wish you nothing but happiness, always._

 _This year, I'll do my best to help you to love yourself better. If you could give yourself even 10% of the love you give me everyday, you'll be drowning in love, I swear. Despite my academic progress, you are my favourite part of the year. You're my forever favourite. I can't even begin to thank you for all that you do for my family and me every day._

 _Here's to 25 and many more years together._

 _Yours,  
_ _Natsume_

* * *

 **A/N:** One chapter to go! Just going to round it all up now.

I also have an announcement: this is my last story. As to whether I'll get around to finishing Resistance, I'm not sure but there is a chance that it might be left unfinished. I'm sorry!

I've entirely lost my motivation for writing for this site; it just feels like shouting in the void, kind of pointless and a waste of time (if that makes sense)?

Anyway, see you for the last time next time!

Until then.


	18. Finally

**A/N:** I don't own Alice Gakuen.

 **Chapter Eighteen: Finally**

* * *

"Yes, I understand," Natsume said, as he turned in his chair. He was sitting at his desk at home, on the phone to Jinno. His free hand rubbed his temples, not knowing what quite to do or say. Outside his window, it was a grey and wet Monday morning. "Thanks for everything, Jinno. I really appreciate it."

Jinno reminded him again of the deadline this Friday.

"Yes; I'll let you know my answer by then." Natsume confirmed, exhaling heavily.

Jinno ended his conversation by insisting, yet again, what an incredibly special and wonderful opportunity this would be for Natsume should he take it. Natsume only murmured non-committedly in response.

When he hung up, he put his mobile down on the desk and hung his head down. His hands clutched his head. He did not know how to react. He did not know what to do. One side of him rejoiced, triumphant. The other side (the larger side), worried about his life here in Tokyo, with Mikan. He thought of his father, Aoi and his friends. He loved this city.

Never in his wildest dreams did he expect such an offer.

He couldn't believe how his week had started, with such a phone-call—such an out-of-the-ordinary, _extra_ ordinary, terrifying, magnificent phone-call.

Mikan was away. She was in Hong Kong for the week, invited as a celebrity guest for a film festival. She had been reluctant to go for so long, but one of the directors who were nominated for an award was Mikan's old senpai and friend, Akira Tonouchi. Akira had told her she was free to bring a guest, and both her and Natsume considered going together as a couple. But Natsume was currently busy with job applications, applying to many different universities in their respective astrophysics department. So, Mikan took Sumire instead, for Hotaru despised their senpai Akira whilst Sumire found amusement his crassness.

Natsume stared at his mobile, his hand itching to pick it up and call Mikan to tell her what Jinno had just said. But how would he break such news? Would it better to tell her in person when she was back, so she didn't have to worry unnecessarily? Surely, it would be better to tell her face-to-face so they could discuss the options together.

"Shit," Natsume sighed, his hands rubbing his eyes.

He decided he would wait for her to return this Thursday before informing her of the offer.

And so, when she texted him later that evening asking how he was, he just wrote that he was okay and that he hoped she was enjoying herself. She replied, telling him the food in Hong Kong was amazing and that it was much warmer there than in Tokyo. She also mentioned that they should go someday together. That would be nice, he answered.

* * *

Around six o'clock in the afternoon, Mikan returned back home, pushing her small suit-case through the door with a foot, as her arms were dragged down by the many gift bags she held. Natsume, who had been waiting for her, cooking, put the spatula down and came to her help.

"Hello!" Mikan brightly said, letting him take a few bags off her hand.

"Hey," Natsume answered, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on her lips. "You good?"

He also picked up the suitcase, pulling it in their home so Mikan could manoeuvre herself better. Almost immediately, she dropped most of the bags to the floor.

"You should have called me from downstairs," Natsume mentioned, as he peered into the many bags, intrigued, "I would have come down to help you."

Mikan fell heavily back on the sofa. "Oh, it's so good to be back! What are you cooking? It smells so good!"

"Pasta and chicken Milanese,"

Her eyes popped open in excitement. "Wow, I love you."

Natsume curiously perused at some of the things out of the bag. "What's all this?"

"Oh, yeah!" She jumped for the couch, giddy. "Did you know that 'natsume' is a fruit in China? A healthy date?"

He nodded. "Yeah; my mum named me that because she wanted me to be healthy."

Her heart melted. She continued, "Well, I found so many 'natsume' sweets! Look," she pointed at the Chinese character on the package, which was the same as his kanji, "see? And they're really yummy too!"

Natsume laughed. "What else did you buy? It all looks like food."

"Mostly, yes," she smiled, and she started to name them as she pulled them out of the bags, "Ma jai, Panda Cookies, melon pastries—ooh, and also a lot of facemasks!" She brandished the packets in his face. "We can do them together!"

"Well, I'm not going to say no to hydrated skin," he joked, and she heartily laughed.

She put everything in her hands down on the table. "I also got tea for your father and makeup for Aoi."

"That's very kind of you—"

"And your present—"

"I thought my gifts were the hundred bags of 'natsume' sweets," he teased, interrupting her.

She smiled as she finished, "is in my suitcase. Give me two seconds."

He returned to the hob to turn the heat off as she fiddled around with her suitcase in the corridor. He heaped the pasta onto two plates and set then down on the table for them. When he returned with the chicken, Mikan was already sat, waiting for him, eagerly holding out something small with a beaming smile.

He took it thankfully. "Do you want me to open it now?"

"Of course!" She burst happily. "Open it!"

He grinned at her childishness before he unwrapped it. Beneath the paper, was a sleek, rectangular box. He glanced at her with a quizzical brow before he popped it open. She had bought him a beautiful fountain pen, engraved with his initials. He took it out to admire it more. It was perfect.

"It's beautiful. Thank you, Mikan," still holding it, he leaned on the table towards her so he could kiss her on the cheek.

"I couldn't think of anything more perfect for a Professor," she sweetly said, reaching out for his cheek as he moved away.

Natsume placed the pen back in its box. His heart still felt warm from all her smiles and consideration, but now, it beat louder in his chest. He knew he had to speak to her tonight.

"Mikan," he looked up at her, placing his hands on his knees, nervous, "there's something I need to speak to you about." Mikan, who had already started to eat, put her fork down to listen. Natsume exhaled, "On Monday, I got a call from Jinno about my career. I didn't want to tell you this over the phone, as my decision will affect us both, so I thought it was best to tell you this in person."

It surprised Natsume to see Mikan look so serene. It surprised him, even more, when she said, "Cambridge University offered you a position in their astrophysics department, right? Natsume, I'm _so_ proud!"

His mouth fell open in shock. "How did you know?"

"Jinno called me two days ago," Natsume's eyes widened when he heard this, which matched nicely with his gaping mouth, "to ask me whether you'd made your decision yet and to remind you of the deadline this Friday. He's a nice man, Jinno," Mikan remarked, her eyes warm, "he really wants the best for you, Natsume."

Natsume was still reeling in from the shock. He couldn't quite smile with her yet. "I can't believe he called you; he really knows how best to put pressure on me."

Mikan laughed.

"You must have been surprised," Natsume guessed, as he apologetically looked at her. "I'm sorry you didn't hear it from me. But I really thought we should speak about this in person."

"I knew that's why you didn't tell me," Mikan assured him, smiling, "Don't worry about that. It didn't upset me. And as for whether I was surprised… well, not exactly. Hotaru has been saying this ever since your conference."

"Really?" Natsume couldn't believe it.

"Mmhm," she nodded, confirming it to be true, "So," she laughed, "I guess you can say I've been emotionally preparing for this moment for a few months now. Hotaru's not usually wrong."

Natsume recalled her asking about the Cambridge professors at the dinner after the conference, but he had not thought anything of it. And now, he didn't know what quite to say. This conversation was going very differently than what he had anticipated—he had expected to break the news to her and for them discuss the matter for hours. But here Mikan was, just so accepting of this job opportunity, looking at him with that encouraging smile. He didn't realize it until that moment, but some part of him had actually wanted her to display worry and fears, for that was how he was feeling at the moment. He had wanted to console both her fears and his tonight.

Mikan saw this. "What's wrong, Natsume?" She was concerned, and her hand reached out towards him.

"Don't get me wrong," Natsume slowly said, "I am happy. But… _England_ ," he grimaced at her. "It's so far. And cold, I hear. And there's a time difference too. It's on the other side of the world. I don't want to be so far apart from you."

"Oh," it was Mikan's turn to frown now. "Oh… I thought, well, that maybe I would go with you? Was that presumptuous of me?"

"You will?" Natsume stood up from his seat, his food forgotten. When she tentatively nodded, checking to see whether this was okay, he went over to her side and crouched down by her chair. He took her hands and placed both their hands in her lap. He was looking up at her, smiling with absolute joy.

"You'll come with me? Really?"

Mikan nodded, and laughed when she saw the ways his eyes beamed up at her so pleasantly. She felt as if she were in a dream. She gripped his hands tightly once, but she moved her hands to cup his cheek.

"Of course I'll come with you! I want to come with you!"

He had such a big, wide smile on his face. She leaned down to kiss him, her arms now circling his neck. Her kisses trailed towards his cheeks and neck.

"Natsume, I'm so proud of you!" She was nearly in tears; she felt so overwhelmed. She felt as if she were floating with him, perfectly and tranquilly, but at the same time, she felt so much pulsating and victorious joy and pride coursing through her veins. "Professor Natsume Hyuuga of Cambridge University's Astrophysics Department! That's all I could think about since Jinno's call. I went to go buy your pen straight after I heard."

"I don't want to uproot you though," Natsume then said, trying to return to the logistics of them moving together to Cambridge, England for Natsume's job. "You'll be leaving your friends, Jii-chan, Tokyo… are you sure that's okay?"

"I've really thought about it, Natsume," she replied, "but to be honest, I didn't need to think long and hard. All I want is to be by your side. It's an easy answer for me."

She had told Sumire the good news while they were in Hong Kong together, and Sumire, at first, had shrieked in excitement but then started to list all the unfortunate things about England: namely, "It _always_ rains there, Mikan. It's depressing!"

"Besides, we'll come back to Tokyo every so often. We need to come back for your family too. University holidays are long; we can manage it, I'm sure."

"But what about your job?" This had kept Natsume up for many hours in the night, "What will you do?"

"Don't worry; I have no intention of doing nothing but simply wait for you at home," she knew Natsume well enough to know that this was a big issue for him. "I thought about this too. You'll get a working visa; the university will definitely provide one for you. I don't think I'll be able to get one so easily through a job in Cambridge—so, I was thinking, why don't I do a master's degree there? That way I'll get a student visa. It doesn't have to be Cambridge, as I'm sure it'll be hard to get in to, but there are so many different colleges and smaller universities in the area."

"That sounds great," Natsume told her, relieved to hear how serious she was taking all this. "What do you want to study?"

"I've a got list of courses saved on my phone. Some really groovy ones. Can you look through them with me and help me choose?"

"Of course. I'll even help with the application."

Another possible option Mikan had considered was getting married to Natsume. If they were married, the visa would extend to her too. But she thought this, a student visa, was better: inspired by Natsume, she wanted to study more anyway, and this way, they could see how they enjoyed their life in England. They did not want to tie to knot for such legalistic reasons anyway. It meant more to them than that anyway.

Natsume's heart was pounding very loudly: his mind was bursting and swimming with visions of his future with Mikan, in England. This would a big change for them. And yet, from the way she smiled down at him, he felt sure that it would all be alright.

"The salary's really good," Natsume informed her, his voice brimming with well-deserved pride. "I think I can afford a deposit this time around. We'll get a small house together!"

Mikan's cheeks hurt from smiling too much. She tried to articulate how she was feeling, albeit very poorly. "I feel like, this bit," she motioned towards her chest, "is constricting so tightly, like it's an elastic band that being pulled so hard and it's about to snap and explode. Does that make sense?"

"I feel it too!" Natsume laughed.

"I'm just so proud of you, Natsume!"

* * *

They called Jinno the next morning. Natsume informed his mentor that he would graciously take the position. Jinno sighed in relief. He wanted only the best for his best and favourite student.

* * *

In the afternoon, they called Natsume's family first to let them know of the news. Ioran was overjoyed. Aoi cried, both in happiness and in sadness. Her favourite person in the world would be leaving the country later this year, but she knew that this was his destiny. She didn't want to ever stop him again.

Their friends came next. Their reactions were just as loud, excited, incredulous yet wistful as the next. Only Hotaru sounded smug on the phone, for she was the first to guess correctly yet again.

* * *

Hotaru came over two weeks later to further discuss the logistics of moving to England, bringing lawyer Rei Serio with her. Rei Serio introduced himself as Persona, and diligently typed notes into his computer, noting down everything Mikan, Natsume and Hotaru said, chiming in now and then to clarify certain legal procedures.

They decided that afternoon that they would keep this flat in Tokyo and rent it out whilst they were in England.

Pesona thought this was a good idea, "For you never know where you'll be living in ten year's time. You might be back in Japan, or perhaps in Switzerland."

All the necessary documents were signed in total agreement.

* * *

Mikan finally told her father of her and Natsume's decision over lunch. They were eating at the Palace Hotel. She told him that she was moving to Cambridge with her boyfriend, and that she was planning to take a master's in Anthropology. Her father asked her when she would return. She told him that she did not know. He suggested that if she were moving to England, she could get married to Andou Tsubasa there in London. She informed him that she still had no intention to do such a thing and that she would marry Natsume Hyuuga someday. Her father left soon after, leaving her with the bill.

She did not care. And for the first time in forever, she did not cry after seeing her father. Instead, free as a bird, she returned home feeling buoyant and radiant.

* * *

They found a lovely little cottage to live in Cambridge. They signed the documents that stated the house would be theirs from the beginning of September.

* * *

The academic term at Cambridge was due to start in October. Considering their future abode in Cambridge, and also the fact that Natsume wanted to get used to the faculties before teaching, they decided that they would arrive in England by the first of September.

It was July now. The summer was in bloom in Tokyo, with the cicadas crying and the sun sizzling the streets in the day. In the evening, the air was still heavy, warm and sweet. In a week's time, Natsume and Mikan were leaving Japan: they had planned a whole of summer of travelling. Natsume had never been to Europe before, and Mikan was ready to show him all the wonders of the world. Italy, the Czech Republic, Croatia, Germany, France, Ukraine, Austria, Sweden, Spain… so many countries were on their list. So many different rich cultures, wondrous cuisines and gorgeous sights awaited them in the West.

Tonight, Mikan and Natsume were having a farewell party at _Goemon_ , the place where it all started. Hotaru had taken the liberty to rent out the entire restaurant for the occasion, and tonight, Narumi was not there as Natsume's manager, but as an esteemed guest. He was currently standing at the front, giving a speech on a microphone that Sumire had prepared for the night.

"—and so, I gave Natsume ¥10,000 that night, bribing him to take Mikan's purse back to hers! So, you can say that I'm technically the one responsible for tonight!"

"¥10,000!" Mochu cried, guffawing hard. "Natsume, you greedy bastard! I knew money was involved!"

"A cheap price for true happiness," Natsume joked back, laughing hard as Mochu threw bottle cap in his direction, "Oi, you shit, don't throw things—"

It was the first time Natsume was here at _Goemon_ as a diner, not a server. Besides him, Mikan sat, laughing at all their memories past and at the present before them, which was nothing short of joyous.

Tonight, all their friends and Natsume's family had come. Their invitations even extended to Natsume and Luca's football team, the young teenagers all conversing raucously, stuffing their faces with food (Youichi was currently spying on Aoi Hyuuga, finding her to be very pretty and very related to Natsume); Jii-chan, of course; Yuu Tobita, who had become a good friend to the boys, and Jinno and his family.

Mikan continued to take photos with Kaoru's film camera, of all the smiling faces in the room who meant so much to her.

Sumire now stumbled her way to Narumi and took the microphone from him, "Sorry, Naru darling—can I just add that _I_ was the one who took Natsume to Mikan that night? I could have _very_ easily just taken the purse from him and given it to Mikan myself, _or_ even easier, I could have had him for myself that night!"

Aoi gasped, shocked and horrified, covering her ears. Her eyes crinkled and she stuck her tongue out, disgusted. Little Youichi glared at Sumire who had made Aoi react so viscerally.

Koko booed, "In your dreams, Shouda!"

All these amusing trajectories of what ifs' belonged in the multiverse.

"Fujiyama!" Luca cried, chastising a teenager. "Get your shoes off the table!"

The media had finally gotten a hold of Natsume and Mikan's courtship at the end of March. To them, the 'Nth Mystery' was finally solved: the initial on Mikan's necklace belonged to Natsume Hyuuga, an aspiring astrophysicist. They pulled photos of him from the Astronomical Conference, reminding their readers that Mikan had attended this very conference. They speculated when they must have met and got together, basing all their guesses on when Mikan was first seen wearing the necklace. They fawned over Natsume's looks and pretended to understand his thesis. Some crueller outlets questioned his taste. But it was okay. Their lives did not change much since the exclusive that announced their relationship. And they figured that in England, they could go completely unnoticed, unknown. Mikan would finally be able to walk without having to look behind her back for a camera. Natsume's career would not be tainted. And the media had no idea of their upcoming adventures across the world either, as it should be. They would never need to hide again.

In this room, Ioran felt Kaoru's presence. He knew in his heart that she was at peace, knowing that her work with Natsume was finally done. He was so proud of the man his son had become.

Mikan went over to Jii-chan, to see what he was talking about with Jinno and Yuu Tobita. She took his arm and placed her head softly on his bony shoulder.

"I don't think anyone could have predicted this," Luca observed, wistfully watching his best friend talk to Youichi (he did his best to ignore Fujiyama and some other teenagers that were whooping in his peripheral vision).

"My psychic could have," Sumire piped up nonchalantly, "In fact, she told me years ago that Mikan would move out of the country at some point."

Hotaru rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

"Don't worry," Sumire added, "she said that Mikan would come back to Japan someday too. She also predicted that you'll one day stop being such a cynical cow, Hotaru," she smirked pointedly in her friend's direction, "and that you'll find true love before your thirties."

"Fat chance." Mochu sniggered, passing a mischevious glance in her direction.

"Fuck off, Mochu." Hotaru deadpanned.

Aoi felt so full, from both the food and happiness. She was about to walk over to Natsume, to speak to him, when someone tapped her shoulder. She looked behind her, and saw a teenage boy who was quite a bit shorter then her. She gazed down at him.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice friendly. She wondered if he were lost.

"Hi. I'm Youichi."

"Hi, Youichi."

"You're Aoi, Natsume's sister, right?"

"Yes, I am!" She confirmed. "You must be in his football team."

He coolly nodded. A silence befell them. Aoi just looked at him, expectantly, wondering why on earth this little teenager had prodded her on the shoulder.

Youichi finally continued, as suavely as he could, "So, I was just wondering… are you into younger guys?"

Aoi was so confused. "Huh?"

"You think I have a shot with you?"

Aoi gaped at him, shocked. Then, she erupted with incredulous laughter. "Youichi, I'm sorry but that's not gonna happen."

"Why not!" He pouted, but he did not seem putout in the slightest. "I thought women like younger men."

"Yes," she slowly said, " _men_. But _you're_ a _child!_ That's very illegal!"

"Oh, right." He considered this for a moment, then he shrugged, "Well, I guess I'll hit you up again when I'm eighteen?"

Aoi was dumbfounded.

"That's never happening, you little shit," Natsume suddenly appeared before them, with one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Youichi merely shrugged again before he deviously grinned. "Just you all wait till she's in her thirties and I'm a ripe fruit in my twenties. She'll be begging for me then!" Knowing he clearly stepped the line, Youichi zoomed away towards his friends as soon as he said that.

Aoi stared after him, her jaw completely fallen. Natsume just shook his head, exasperated but finding the humour in his little protégé's idiocy. Tonight, everything was more fun than usual; everything glowed and thrummed brighter.

"What the fuck was that?!" Aoi finally spoke, still shocked.

"That was Youichi."

"No, that was a fuck-boy in the making, that's what that was," Aoi proclaimed. "The cheek!"

"He's only learnt from the best," Luca chimed in, grinning, as he walked past the two siblings. He had witnessed the last few moments of their exchange. He patted Natsume's shoulders meaningfully as he moved away, making his way towards Yuu Tobita.

Aoi scowled at her brother. "Why are you teaching your students to be fuck-boys!"

"I'm not!" Natsume laughed. "Luca's kidding."

" _Anyway_ ," Aoi did her best to move the subject on, flicking her hair behind her shoulder to turn a new page, "I just wanted to say thank you, Natsume. Thank you for everything."

"Oh, shit," Natsume grinned, "we really going to have a serious conversation after that?"

" _Yes_ ," Aoi insisted, grabbing her brother's arm earnestly, "I'm serious Natsume! Stop smiling," with her fingers, she tried to destroy his smile by pulling at his lips and cheeks.

"Ow!"

"As I was saying," Aoi cleared her throat, "thank you Natsume. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I really, really mean it."

Natsume's expression finally sobered up. He looked down at his beautiful little sister, who now looked as if she were about to cry. He pulled her close, an arm encircling her.

"I'll send you and dad money every month. So, don't worry about anything."

"I'm not worried about that!" She cried, indignant, "I mean, obviously, thank you for that as well, but what I meant was—"

"I know, Aoi." He squeezed her. "You don't have to say anything for me to know."

Aoi thought of MIT, her childhood with Natsume looking after her, Natsume tutoring her, paying for her, buying her presents, accompanying her to wherever she demanded…

"You're going to be so far away from me," she softly whimpered against his chest.

"I know." Natsume stroked her hair. "I'm worried about you the most."

"But you'll come back to visit us, right?"

"Of course. And I'll pay for you and dad to come to visit us too."

"Good," Aoi decided, her hands gripping her brother's back, as her cheek was pressed against his cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Natsume. You deserve all of it and more."

On the other side of the room, Mikan picked up the film camera and took a photo of the two siblings.

The whole room was brimming with love. It was so light in _Goemon_ that night: bright and dazzling but so, so soft.

* * *

Mikan and Natsume had visited so many different European cities. Natsume loved them all. He saw and experienced so many different things. The air, the food, the water, the kindness of strangers—everything was beautiful.

Today, they were in Vienna. It was mid-August.

It was very hot outside, so Mikan suggested they go to the famous Belvedere Museum. The white building by the water was stunning—Natsume didn't think he'd ever tire of such magnificent sites. He took a photo of Mikan in her lovely orange summer dress and white hat outside the museum.

Hand-in-hand, they entered and paid for their ticket.

Languidly, they strolled around the museum, looking at all the beautiful art, marvelling at the architecture. It was so still and peaceful in the museum, away from the scorching rays outside. Mikan held her white hat in her free hand, swinging it slightly as they walked deeper into the museum.

Then, they came across a large, golden painting of a man and a woman embracing, enraptured by each other. The woman's eyes were peacefully closed, her arm around his neck as her lover held her, kissing her cheek. They were wrapped together in gold, existing in a golden world of pure bliss.

"It's Gustav Klimt's _The Kiss_ ," Mikan softly murmured, as they gazed up at it, entranced.

"It's beautiful."

Mikan suddenly turned to look at him, her smile bright. "It's like you and me!" She pointed at the man's black hair and the woman's brown hair. "See? It's us!"

Natsume laughed, amused by her remark. "A very Caucasian version of us," he teased.

"Well, regardless of what they look like," she turned back to the painting, her tone clearer and steadier now, "that's how you make me feel everyday."

She was completely sincere. Natsume was touched. She always said the sweetest things so effortlessly from her heart.

He looped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in to kiss her on the head. "You're as sentimental as they get,"

"But that's how I feel!" She insisted.

"I know." He was only teasing. He knew that she was genuine. This time he replied with true honesty too, "It's the same for me, silly. Come, let's continue."

* * *

The years past and Mikan faded from the limelight, like all celebrity stars. She dissipated from the public's eye. But in Natsume's eyes, she was his forever, his eternal, steadfast bright star.

Everything he promised came true: they got married, they had children, they were a family. They were happy.

Sometimes, people would pass Mikan on the street and say, "That's the girl who used to be famous." She became a thing of the past, a nostalgic throwback. But to Natsume, she was his everyday gift.

She would say that he was her angel: something fantastic, something transcendental sent from heaven to heal her. He would insist that she brought him back to the earth, away from the universe.

And as he watched Mikan read a bedtime story to their eldest child, their son, Natsume felt nothing but pure contentment.

He was always supposed to be here, with Mikan, in this moment in time.

He was truly, truly at home.

She too was truly, truly at home. Finally.

 _Finally._

 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N:** I uploaded this story a year ago today! Sorry it took so long, but I'm glad it's done now. I also started and ended this story with 'finally'—the same word, but in very different contexts, so it feels like it has a different meaning each time. It feels like a good full stop. It was also inspired by Namie Amuro's song, _Finally_. You can find the song and the English translation of the lyrics online too. And yes, Klimt's _The Kiss_ is my avatar picture... hehe. It's just so beautiful.

Anyway, I just want to thank the readers who stuck by me these short years. I admit, I do wish I got more feedback, but thank you all so much anyway for reading and enjoying my silly stories. I may not have improved in the slightest, but it was nice to sometimes hear that I made somewhere out there in the world smile with my words.

I'm not sure if I'll return for Resistance, but if I ever do, my return shall be glorious and victorious! But I'm not promising anything.

Have a happy new year and a happy, happy life. You'll have blue days—we all do—but just remember to treasure the good days and be kind to yourself on the blue days. Don't underestimate the small but strong powers of a cup of warm tea, a candle or warm light, or 'The Very Best of Enya' playlist on YouTube (seriously, she's a goddess) on those days. And remember, those blue days are crucial for your journey of self-love. Love yourself always as best as you can.

I wish the best for all of you.

 **7th January 2019.**


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